


All Summer Long

by iamsiriuslyriddikulus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animagus, Animagus Draco Malfoy, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-01-11 01:29:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12311964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamsiriuslyriddikulus/pseuds/iamsiriuslyriddikulus
Summary: When Draco Malfoy gets stuck in his Animagus form and Harry unsuspectingly takes him in, he has to figure out a way to change back fast before he gets caught. But that might be impossible considering he's living with an Auror who also happens to be his ex-nemesis. Set post-war.





	1. Prologue

Draco knew he should have been more careful. It was only a matter of time before he ran into someone he didn’t want to in Knockturn Alley. Most of his former friends from Hogwarts, like him, didn’t like the weird looks they got at other wizarding bars where people knew their faces.

He had been sure he was being followed when he first left his flat, but he quickly transfigured into his dog Animagus. It wouldn’t have been the first time. When the war first ended, the Ministry had put constant tabs on him. They had warned him not to set a toe out of line, that they would make sure that he was not following in his father’s footsteps. _Blah, blah, blah_ , Draco thought. Learning how to become an Animagus was the only way he had been able to find any peace and quiet.

So had had put the thought of being followed at the back of his head. Until now that was.

“Slinking off, Draco? I hear that’s a Malfoy family tradition,” Hestia Carrow said, pointing her wand at him. Flora stepped out from the shadows beside her, wand also pointed at him.

“What do you want?” Before they spoke, Draco knew what they were going to tell him.

“We want our aunt and uncle back,” Flora spat.

“Fat good it did Lucius, giving them away. I hear he’s rotting in Azkaban, just like them,” Hestia said.

“Well, not just like. Your father didn’t get the Kiss.”

Draco’s cheeks heated up. He pulled out his wand as well.

“Three against one, the odds aren’t looking in your favor, Draco,” Theodore Nott said from behind him. _Well, shit_ , Draco thought. He lifted his hands, wand still in them, as he turned around. Theo looked at him with an expression somewhere between amusement and disgust. “You should have known better than coming here. Your face isn’t as popular as it used to be around these parts.”

“It’s been a while, Theo.” He decided to go for the most cordial tone he could manage, but even he heard the waver in his voice.

“I used to look up to you, used to think you actually knew what you were talking about, what you were doing.” As Theo spoke, Draco glanced from him to the Carrow sisters. It was clear that Theo was leading the pack. “We know why your mother was spared from Azkaban. If it weren’t for her, this could have ended differently.”

“So you’re going to kill me then?” Draco asked.

“Kill you? You always had a flair for the dramatic, Draco,” Theo said.

“No, we just want you to have fun.” Twin smirks spread across Hestia and Flora’s faces, and Draco pointed his wand at the overhang above the entrance to the pub.

“Bombarda!” The stone of the overhang exploded and fell on top of them, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. Before Theo could act, he transfigured. If he had more time, he would transfigure his clothes with him. That always took more concentration. Now his focus was simply escaping. He could worry about clothes later.

“Oh no you don’t!” Theo shrieked behind him. He half-heard him mutter a spell he didn’t recognize over the sound of the collapsing rubble, and a wave ran over his body. For a moment, he felt caught in time as much as in place. A warm, unpleasant sensation spread across him. It felt briefly like it would feel to touch something scalding hot, that split second before the burning sensation kicked in. And just like in that moment, Draco knew that something was incredibly wrong.

His breath left him tripping over his paws as Theo called out another spell. The ringing in his ears blocked it out, but he didn’t need to hear it to know that Theo had cast a body binding curse. He toppled over, glancing around as much as his position would allow him to. Theodore came into sight moments later.

“I saw you were one earlier when we followed you here, but who knew you would present us with such a perfect opportunity?” He grinned. “We were just going to throw you around a bit, but this is much more satisfying – I have to say.” He undid the body bind, and Draco scrambled up. His wand was several feet away, and before he could lunge for it, Theo’s eyes travelled over to where it was. They moved at the same time, but Theo, being closer and not disoriented from falling over, got to it first.

Draco knew he had to act fast. People were coming out of their houses after hearing the commotion, and he knew he had to get out of Knockturn Alley. He growled and lunged up, but Theo Apparated. As he fell onto the cobblestones, the rubble from The White Wyvern began to lift with a spell.

There was no use in his being here. Dog or not, he didn’t want to get drawn into it. As he turned and ran unnoticed through the crowd, he mulled over Theo’s words. They sounded ominous, but he had left no hint for what they really meant. He’d have time to figure it out later, but right now, he knew he had to get to Diagon Alley and transfigure back before anyone suspected him. The last thing his family needed was another reason for people to despise his family.

Or to get caught transfiguring back.

He found a quiet spot just before the threshold between Knockturn and Diagon and concentrated. Usually, he had his wand with him, but he had transfigured without one plenty of times. Yet this time, nothing happened. No matter how much he concentrated, the ground didn’t gets further from his face, and he didn’t move upright. Everything stayed the same. He scanned his mind for something he could be doing wrong, but transfiguring was second-nature to him at this point.

And Theo words came rushing back. This was the perfect opportunity he was talking about, being stuck in dog form. Draco felt a sinking pit in his stomach. No one knew he was an Animagus as far as he was aware. He had to get home. Perhaps his mother would be able to tell who he was. Surely, he was recognizable to someone.

Draco ran out into Diagon Alley, suddenly aware of how conspicuous a large, white dog was.  He felt eyes on him and even saw one person pointing a finger.

 _Not my best idea_ , he thought, weaving through a sea of legs. _But this was never supposed to happen. As long as I get home, everything will be fine. And when I transform back, those sons of bitches will –_

Draco was too busy thinking about what he was going to do that he ran straight into someone’s legs. They both stumbled back, and a book fell out of their hands and onto Draco’s head. He growled and shook himself before looking up.

 _Fuck_.

“I’m sorry, boy.” Harry Potter kneeled in front of him and picked up his book. He reached out to scratch Draco on the head, but Draco growled.

_Not letting the precious Boy Who Lived treat me like an animal, even if I am one. He’s not going to pet me._

“Okay, no touching. I got it.” Harry’s eyes stayed fixed on his, and he smiled wide. Draco huffed, turned on his tail, and walked away.

\- - -

Draco quickly realized that he did not know how to get to his mother’s new flat from the Diagon Alley. If he had a wand, he could Apparate, but he had no reason to know how to walk there and no way to ask or find out. His own flat, which he knew how to get to, was no more helpful. Without a wand, there would be no way to get into the apartment.

 _Leaky Cauldron it is._ They let him stay inside for the night, but no matter how much he whined, they never gave him a pillow to stay on. So Draco spent his first night as a dog curled up on the stone floor of the lobby, dreaming of his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware that canonically Lucius was not sent to Azkaban after the war, that he was pardoned. But this is my story, so he was sent to Azkaban in this universe. Also, I'm not usually a big fan of the thoughts in italics thing, but here I am doing it.
> 
> Also, to clarify, I am imagining Draco as a Berger Blanc Suisse. In my mind, Sirius looks like a black German Shepherd. Part of what made Harry so drawn to Draco is that he looks almost identical to Sirius but white.


	2. Chapter One

In fact, Draco spent nearly the next two weeks sleeping on the stone floor of the lobby of the Leaky Cauldron. The cook would sometimes throw him a bone or some scraps to eat. Although he first refused it, he quickly learned that was all anyone was going to give him. Outside of any loaf he stole from the tables of unsuspecting customers, that was all that he was given. Twice in that time he managed to grab a full meal from someone’s plate and begin to scarf it down without them noticing.

 _I’m eating a fucking steak as soon as I get out of here_ , he thought as he chewed on a piece of chicken that the cook had thrown him. _At least no one knows who I am_.

And that truly was the most comforting thing for him. As degrading as this was for him, no one else knew that this was degrading because as far as they knew, he was a dog. And as a dog, there was nothing wrong with him eating scraps.

 _Although I don’t know how any dog does this anyway_.

The other large problem was using the bathroom. Privacy didn’t exist for dogs. After holding it in for two days and staring forlornly at the toilet, he resigned himself to roaming Diagon and Knockturn Alley to find a corner that wasn’t occupied. _I’ll be damned if anyone sees me_. Nonetheless, person there or not, Draco felt sufficiently degraded.

As two weeks approached, Draco looked up one day to see a familiar face.

Harry Potter sat at the bar of the Leaky Cauldron, talking to Tom, the bartender, and nodding vigorously. As he got up, he noticed Draco as well. Draco stepped forward and strained his ears to hear what Harry was saying.

“Whose dog is this?”

“He wandered in one day. We don’t exactly know what to do with him, but we don’t know whose he is. We asked around and put up several posters across Diagon Alley, but no luck.”

 _Of course no one’s come forward, you idiot_.

“Oh.” Harry glanced over at Draco with a worried look.

 _Don’t you dare, Potter. I don’t need your pity._ Draco turned around and moved to the other side of the table where Harry wouldn’t be able to see him nor he Harry. The last thing he needed was Harry Potter asking after him. _Although…_ As much as he hated admitting it, Granger had spent most of their time at Hogwarts solving mysteries that Harry and Ron never would have realized without her help. _No_.

Soon after he had moved, however, Harry moved around the table. “You’re coming with me, buddy. We’re going to help you find your owners.”

 _Shit_. Draco got up and took a step back, baring his teeth. If Harry Potter found out that he was an Animagus, he had no clue what would happen. Besides, the last thing he wanted was to be living with Harry and Ginny. He knew that he would probably endlessly be around Ron and Hermione. _Oh God, they’d probably pet me._

“This really isn’t any place for you,” Harry said.

_And being with you is?_

“You’ll get to sleep in a bed.”

 _You can’t bribe me with beds_.

“Work with me here. I’ll get things sorted out. I promise.”

“He can’t understand you,” Tom said.

“It still feels only polite to explain to him where he’s going,” Harry said.

Draco snorted. _Of course Potter would think that_.

“And if I didn’t know better, I’d say he did understand me. He just snorted!”

“Maybe you’re right.” Tom still looked skeptical.

“C’mon. You don’t have to, but it’d probably be better for you than being stuck in a bar.” Harry smiled again and reached out a hand slowly to touch Draco’s muzzle. Although Draco turned his head out of the way, he moved closer to Harry.

 _Fine. It probably will be better than here, but that isn’t much of a standard_. Nonetheless, Harry looked delighted in his decision.

“You won’t regret it.”

Tom shook his head. “Alright, Mr. Potter –”

“Harry.”

“– you’re welcome to take him, but I can’t promise that he won’t give you any trouble.”

“Trust me, he’s nothing I can’t handle.”

 _Don’t know if that’s true_ , Draco thought. _Think there were a few times you couldn’t handle me_. As Harry motioned for him to follow, he reluctantly did so. Right now, he knew he just had to get out of his dog form as soon as possible. _If Potter’s the means to make it happen, than so be it._ And Draco knew that if nothing else, he would be able to have some fun messing with him. _I’ll make his life hell._

After they had made their way to the back of the Leaky Cauldron, Harry said, “I’m going to need to hold onto you to Apparate. Please don’t bite me.”

Draco gazed up at him, trying to look like he didn’t understand. When Harry reached forward to place a hand on him, he lifted his lips up, baring his teeth. Harry immediately jumped back. _Priceless. Should have seen the look on your face, Potter_. He moved forward and got on his hind legs, placing his front ones on Harry’s chest. Although he flinched, Harry wrapped an arm around Draco.

And they Apparated.

 _Well, fuck me._ As it turned out, Apparating was somehow even more unpleasant as an Animagus. It’d been long enough that he had gotten used to the sensation normally, but this was amplified. His head began to throb almost immediately, and he whined. Harry’s grip on him tightened, and for a moment, Draco wondered what would happen if he let go. He leaned in closer as well, adjusting his front paws.

When it stopped, Draco felt as if he needed a moment to catch his breath, and his body shook. A soothing hand ran up and down his back, and he stayed with his eyes closed for a few seconds before he remembered. _Potter_.

He dropped his legs to the ground and stared at the flat in front of them.

“Okay, so I’m gonna let you in and then I’m going to go get some stuff for you,” Harry said. Seemingly reassured by their interaction Apparating, Harry reached down to pet Draco’s head, but Draco dodged it again, turning his head to the side and letting out a sharp breath. “One day you’re not gonna mind being pet so much. We’re gonna get there before we find your owners.”

Draco did his best to roll his eyes. _Keep on dreaming._

When Harry turned the handle, Draco braced himself for the sound of Ginny, maybe Ron or Hermione. Instead, there was nothing but silence. _At work?_ It made sense. It was the middle of the day. But when he stepped in, there was nothing but the smell of Harry. _Strange_.

Draco padded in and looked around the flat. _It’s rather… unimpressive._ He looked around the living room, and if it weren’t for the clutter, he would have assumed it was part of a hotel. It was sparsely furnished, with only a couch, armchair, coffee table, short bookshelf with a few books, and some sort of a Muggle device. Draco couldn’t quite remember the name of it. _A VT maybe?_ However, the coffee table was piled high with at least a week’s worth of Daily Prophets and three days’ worth of mugs. A cotton, blue bathrobe lay across the armchair, and one side of the couch, several dishes sat, waiting to be washed. Draco scrunched his nose and looked over at Harry.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck in shame. _You should be ashamed_. “I wasn’t expecting company anytime soon,” Harry said. “Let me just…” He performed a few cleaning spells, sending the dishes to the kitchen through the threshold and folding the Daily Prophets into a neat pile. _If I had your money, I would be living large. This honestly seems a waste._

Draco made his way to the kitchen as Harry cleaned. The kitchen was bright and surprisingly spacious. Pressed to one wall, Harry had a table that sat three people. Next to the fridge, on the opposing wall, there was a door that led outside. There was no way he could open a sliding door on his own with what he had now. So instead, he focused on the fridge and used his teeth to grab the handle and open it. There were a few bags with leftovers and a little bit of food, but his fridge looked half-empty. _It’s like a bachelor typical pad_ , Draco thought _. So he’s really living alone._

He wondered what had happened to him and Ginny. Last he had heard, they were living happily ever after. He had even bumped into them once at Diagon Alley, perhaps a year ago. _Don’t know who messed this one up, but one of you clearly did._ Draco glanced around one more time before making his way back to the living room, where everything was now neatly organized.

“I’m going to show you the bedroom, and then I’m going to go out and grab some stuff.” Draco followed Harry down a small and narrow hallway that had two doors. Draco turned to one, but Harry motioned him over to the other. “C’mere, buddy, this one’s the bedroom.” He opened the door. _So that’s where he spends all of his time_.

Draco couldn’t deny that Harry’s bedroom was nice. It was decently large and fit a queen-sized bed and a desk with plenty of room to spare. _Guess he got to keep the bed._ Even though it was messy, it was nowhere nearly as cluttered as the living room, a few clothes here and there.

“So, yeah, this is basically it. There’s a small yard out back. I guess that’ll be useful for you. But this is your home now.” He smiled at Draco, and Draco felt a small surge of gratitude. He was tucked away, safe until Harry figured out what was wrong and away from the stone floors of the Leaky Cauldron.

 _And then…_ Well, then he’d just have to wait and see what punishment awaited him for breaking the laws. An unregistered Animagus wasn’t a grave offense, but it was big enough of one that he didn’t think it would end too kindly for him.

Harry left the room, and Draco followed. But when they got to the front door, Harry turned around. “I need to get some food for you and some groceries for me.” _Uh-oh. That didn’t sound good._ “I’ll be back soon, okay?” Draco made a move to follow him, but Harry slipped out the front door. It locked behind him, and Draco sat down.

 _I hope Granger visits him soon_. It had to have been the first time he had ever hoped for Hermione Granger to show up.

Draco hadn’t realized how much he’d gotten used to the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley and the Leaky Cauldron. Harry’s flat was quiet, with only the noise of an occasional car passing by or neighbor outside on their phone. Draco made his way over to the kitchen and walked over to the door. Harry’s yard was, as he had said, small, but it looked inviting nonetheless. Underneath the overhang by the door, Harry placed two, well-worn chairs. It looked like the sort of place he would like to sit on a rainy night with a cup of tea.

 _Not gonna happen for a while_. Draco sighed and made his way over to the living room. He jumped up on the couch and curled into a ball. With no way to communicate except through barks, the past two weeks had been lonely. Yet somehow only now, alone and in an unfamiliar flat, stuck with Harry Potter, that loneliness was beginning to fully settle in.

Perhaps someone would go looking for him soon. _I hope mother isn’t too worried about me_. Yet, on some level, Draco hoped that she did worry, that she noticed that he was gone. There was nothing sadder than disappearing and leaving no one behind to worry. The only people who had probably gone asking for his whereabouts were his coworkers and boss.

Draco closed his eyes and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

He woke up to the smell of pork chops. _Smells good_. Still half-asleep, Draco tried to vocalize his thought but only ended up barking. He heard shuffling footsteps in the kitchen, and Harry appeared in the threshold. “You’re awake!”

 _No shit._ Draco stretched and got off the couch.

“I got you a few things!” Harry sounded oddly excited. “I mean, I know you’re only here temporarily, but still.” He moved to the kitchen, motioning for Draco to follow. Reluctantly, Draco did. On the ground, next to the table, Harry had placed two pet bowls, one with water and one with kibble. Draco stared at them in disgust. “I also got you a ball and a rope to tug!” He grabbed them from the kitchen table and threw the ball at Draco.

 _You can’t be serious. I am not humoring this… buffoonery!_ Draco growled and ducked to avoid the ball. It hit a cabinet, bounced off it, and rolled back toward Harry. Harry looked surprised by Draco’s immediate dislike of the ball. Nonetheless, when it got to him, he picked it up and tried again, this time using a lighter toss.

Draco grabbed it out of the air and turned his head to one side before flinging it back at Harry with his full force. Before Harry could stop it, it hit him hard in the leg. “Ow! Fuck.” Harry rubbed his leg and glared at Draco. “Bad dog.” This time, he didn’t make a move to pick up the ball. “I guess that you don’t like the ball then.”

 _Glad you’ve figured it out_. Draco glanced over at the kibble again and barked.

“What’s wrong?”

He barked again, wishing he could somehow tell Harry that he was not eating it. _I ate better at the Leaky Cauldron, you asshole_. He barked again, feeling frustrated as Harry stared at him blankly. Thinking fast, he walked over to the food bowl and knocked it across the floor, sending kibble flying. Harry yelped and reached for his wand to clean up the mess. Grabbing the empty bowl between his teeth, Draco threw it from the kitchen to the living room. _Go fetch_.

As Harry went to the living room to go after it, Draco got on his hind legs and grabbed the pan holding the sizzling pork chops. He set it on the ground, careful not to burn himself. _They look mostly done_. He knew better than to bite into it as it was, still steaming, but before he could figure out how to get it away, Harry came back into the room.

“No! Bad dog!” Harry leaned down and grabbed the pan off the floor. Draco bit his leg, but Harry, despite wincing, held firmly onto it. “Bad dog!” he repeated, setting the pan onto the stove on one of the back burners. When he turned back to face Draco, Harry’s eyes had none of its former kindness, and the smile he’d had up until now was gone.

_This doesn’t look good._

“This is my food. That is your food. We don’t have to play fetch, but I’m not going to humor your tantrums.” Harry pointed a finger at him and then over to the other side of the kitchen. “Go there.” _I’m not going to be talked to like a child._ Draco didn’t budge. “Go there. Please.”

For the first time, Draco could see how tired Harry looked. Now that he wasn’t smiling, the bags under his eyes seemed much more prominent. Harry’s shoulders drooped, and he leaned his head against the fridge.

 _I’ll compromise_. Draco laid down and whined, looking toward the stove. Harry seemed to understand that this was closest he was going to get to Draco listening to him and reached for a cabinet, pulling out a plate. He set the pork chops on them and set the plate down on the counter.

“Excuse me.” Harry opened the oven over Draco, careful not to let the oven door fall too low. From it, he produced a tray of roasted potatoes and scooped them onto the plate as well. When he crossed the kitchen and moved to the living room, Draco got up again. He followed Harry to the living room. Harry sat down on the couch, and Draco sat down on the floor next to him.

 _Jesus Christ that smells good. What I wouldn’t give…_ Draco let out another whine without meaning to, and his eyes followed Harry’s hands as he cut the pork chops up. Harry slid a clean plate out from under his plate. _He grabbed two!_ He slid several roasted potatoes and bite-sized pieces of pork chop onto it before setting the plate down next to Draco.

“I don’t know who owned you, but you’re pretty fucking spoiled, you know that?”

When Harry went to scratch his head, Draco begrudgingly stayed in place. They ate their dinners in silence, and when Harry grabbed his plate from him and made his way to the kitchen, Draco moved to the bedroom. He jumped up on the bed and sprawled out, nuzzling his head against the silk sheets. _I guess his taste one hundred percent awful._

“Hey!” Draco turned his head to see Harry in his boxers, ready for bed and looking at him from the threshold of his room. “No, this is my bed!”

 _Not tonight it isn’t. You haven’t been sleeping on stone for weeks._ Draco growled, and when Harry took a step forward, emboldened by the brief connection they’d shared over dinner, Draco snapped.

“Scoot over at least.”

 _Not sharing this bed with you._ Draco snarled at him, and Harry stopped. His shoulders crumpled forward as he resigned, and he left, going down the hallway and into the living room. When a few minutes had passed, Draco hopped down and peaked his head out the door. Harry lay under a blanket on his couch, already fast asleep.


	3. Chapter Two

Draco woke up with sunlight in his eyes. After stretching, Draco’s eyes caught the room, and he felt a lurch in his stomach. It took a moment to remember where he was and why, and once he remembered, he flopped back down. His eyes glanced around the room, glowing in the sunlight. 

There was no doubt that this was where Harry spent the majority of this time. While the rest of the apartment was messy in a way that bled an “I’ll get to it later” attitude, his bedroom had an organized chaos. The stacks of paperwork on his desk, however precariously balanced, clearly had some organizational method behind them. And even Harry’s bedside table had was relatively clean.

When Draco’s stomach growled, he decided it was time to get out of bed. Harry was likely at work, and he just hoped that he had left something for him. Draco’s mind immediately went to foods he could eat straight out of the fridge if the occasion called for it. Maybe some bread would be reachable. _All I’m asking is for a semi-adequate meal, Potter. Don’t fuck it up_.

But when he got to the kitchen, the sliding door that led outside was cracked open. Draco stepped forward and glanced outside. Harry stood in the center of his small backyard, clothed in his blue bathrobe. Judging by the way he held one arm around himself, Draco figured it must be a brisk, cool morning, and upon stepping outside, he was proved correct. 

When he was halfway to Harry, Draco noticed the cigarette dangling from Harry’s fingers. Draco couldn’t help but think that it didn’t seem like the sort of habit the Golden Boy would have. But sure enough, Harry raised his hand to his mouth before letting out a large puff of smoke. Draco padded up to him, and Harry jumped.

“Didn’t see you there, boy.” Harry crouched down, but Draco took a step back before Harry could pet his head. “Okay, no touching. Sorry.” He smiled at Draco and pulled his bathrobe tighter around himself. Draco stared at Harry for a moment, noting the black bags under his eyes and the wrinkles on his forehead. After a few moments, Draco huffed and turned around, making his way back into the apartment.

He heard Harry following him, and he sat in the kitchen, staring at the fridge. Harry shut the door behind him and leaned back against the glass. His hand covered his face, and he sighed. “Fuck. Okay, you can do this.” If Harry didn’t look so genuinely haggard, Draco would have laughed. Or, well, as close as he could have considering the circumstances. But with his shoulders hunched over, his eyes puffy, it didn’t seem like much of a laughing matter. 

After another moment, he straightened himself up and reached for the fridge. From his fridge, he grabbed milk and set it down on the counter hard. He flinched at the sound before moving over to the cabinet and grabbing Weetabix and a bowl from it. _This may be the saddest thing I've seen from you yet, Potter. Weetabix?_ Harry set them to the side before reaching tentatively toward the bag of kibble he had left in the corner. “Should I even bother?” he asked.  
  
Draco just had to bare his teeth for Harry to stop. He lifted his hands up and sighed. "When we find your owners, I'm gonna have to ask them if they realize that you're a dog and not a person."  
  
A jolt went through Draco, but there was no way to tell him that he couldn't be more wrong. The most he could do was bark. He barked several times and walked over to Harry, pushing him. _I can't believe I'm stuck with you._ As it turned out, this did nothing more than starling Harry, who jumped back.  
  
“I got the message! No kibble.” Harry shook his head and pulled out his wand. “Tempus.” It was 8:40 AM, which was apparently not the answer Harry wanted to see. He put the Weetabix in a bowl and poured a little bit of milk over it before setting it down in front of Draco.  
  
_You have got to be kidding me._ Draco whined as he stated at the bowl in front of him.  
  
“No can do, buddy. If it's good enough for you, it's good enough for me. I gotta get ready.” With that, he left the kitchen. Draco heard the door to the bathroom open and slam shut. It must have been a weekday if Harry was in that much of a rush. It was yet another week he wasn't going to show up for work. At least all would be explained when someone eventually realized who he was and changed him back. He just wasn't so sure what that all would entail. There was no way the Ministry wasn't going to get involved, and that was the last thing he wanted. _One step at a time._ He took a deep breath.   
  
Draco stared forlornly at the bowl in front of him. This was not what he'd wanted when he refused the kibble. But at least it wasn't dog food. He sniffed it before conceding. If Harry was running for work, that meant he wouldn't have any food until he came back. After one final glare at the Weetabix, he began to eat. As he'd waited, the bottoms of the Weetabix had gotten a little soggy. As distasteful as the texture was, he was thankful that it wasn't too hard. Breaking it apart and eating it without a spoon was proving to be harder than he thought, and he could feel it getting all over his face.  
  
When Draco finished, he picked the bowl up between his teeth and stood on his hind legs, letting his front paws rest on the counter. He gently – or as gently as he could – set the bowl down on the counter before making his way over to Harry's room. He'd only just settled on the bed when he heard the water turn off. Another minute passed before the door opened, and Harry walked in.  
  
_Holy shit._  
  
Draco jerked his attention away from Harry. Harry had one towel, which he was using to dry his hair. The rest of him was exposed. Harry's bathrobe and boxers fell on bed beside Draco, and Draco shut his eyes as he tried to calm himself down. It made sense that Harry wouldn't feel the urge to cover himself up in front of him. After all, all Harry saw was a dog. Nonetheless, he hadn't expected to look over and see all of that.  
  
Harry laughed. “If I didn't know better, buddy, I'd say you were embarrassed.” Draco felt a hand on his back, and he gritted his teeth, knowing better than to turn around and snap at Harry.  
  
Draco waited until he was sure that Harry had gotten dressed before opening his eyes and tentatively glancing over. Harry was in the process of putting on his robes and trying to run his fingers through his hair.  
  
When he was done, he motioned for Draco to follow. “C’mon.” When he left the room and Draco didn’t get up, he came back in and motioned again. Taking pity on him, Draco got up. He walked over to the door to his backyard and cracked open the door enough that Draco would be able to walk through before performing a spell to keep bugs from being able to enter.

“I promise we’ll work out a system to make this easier for you and so that you’re not all cooped up,” Harry said, reaching over and ruffling the top of Draco’s head before he could duck away. “And when I get back after work, we’ll get started on strategies to find your owners.” _Leave it to Potter to talk ceaselessly to me_. At least it was somewhat useful. When Draco looked up at him, he couldn’t help but notice that despite his smile, he seemed exhausted and defeated.

However, Draco didn’t have much time to dwell before Harry stood up and made his way toward the door. He grabbed the satchel by the door off the floor and slung it over himself. “See you later!” The door closed behind him. After he’d locked it, Draco heard a loud crack – likely Harry Apparating.

So that was that, Draco supposed. When his stomach cramped up, it struck him just what that open door meant. _Fuck_. He was gonna find a way to use the toilet if it killed him.

Harry had said that he wasn’t coming back until after work, which meant he had a few hours to himself. He supposed it would be nice to relax for a day, but upon glancing across the apartment, it struck him just how cooped up he was.

The days at the Leaky Cauldron at least left him with the option to move around more outside and see more people. Here it was just him, and even with the back door open, there was little space to do anything. This form wasn’t really conducive to reading any books or doing anything outside of walking around or laying down.

The last time he’d felt this cooped up in a house – _Eight hours. I can make it eight hours._ He headed to the kitchen to see if there was any other food within reach that he could use to hold himself over until Harry came back.

\- - -

Draco was on the couch somewhere between sleep and consciousness when he heard the keys go into the lock. He jerked his head up just as the door opened and Harry stepped in. _Must have been a bad day_. Harry slammed the door behind him and lay back against it. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment before straightening himself and looking over at Draco. He offered Draco a small smile and dropped his satchel.

“How do you feel about –” Harry rummaged in his robe pockets and withdrew a collar and leash from his pocket “—going for a walk!” Draco plopped himself back down on the couch. _No way am I letting **you** put a collar on me. Only in your dreams_. Nonetheless, Harry didn’t appear too deterred by Draco’s less than enthusiastic response and began to walk toward him. Draco jumped down and backed away, but Harry still didn’t stop.

They went like that for a while. Harry followed him where he went with the collar in hand, and Draco stepped back. Before long, Draco began to run. He figured that eventually Harry had to run out of steam. Especially considering how tired he looked, he couldn’t imagine he’d have much stamina to chase him. Thankfully, Harry must have agreed that it wasn’t worth the effort because with a final frustrated huff, he gave up.

When Draco peeked out from under the bed, he saw Harry looked at him curiously. “You’re a weird dog. Like a really weird one.” He shook his head and set the leash and collar down on the table.

Harry took off his robes and grabbed jeans and a t-shirt from his chest of drawers, and Draco knew it was his cue to leave the room unless he wanted to see Harry change yet again. He waited in the kitchen, and Harry eventually stepped out.

For whatever reason, it soon became apparent that Harry was cooking a fancier meal. Draco wasn’t entirely sure what possessed him, but he wasn’t complaining as long as Harry was planning to share. Harry kept looking at some strange Muggle device that looked like the TV in his living room but smaller and with a bottom half perpendicularly attached to it and muttering the steps of the recipe to himself.

In any case, Draco figured it was best to stay out of Harry’s way. He stayed mostly in the corner of the kitchen, resting his head on his paws as he watched Harry dart around the kitchen.

The pie – steak and kidney it seemed – had barely gone in the oven when there was a knock at the door. Harry turned on the faucet and ran his hands under water before running towards it, wiping his hands on his pants as he did.

_Who’s the lucky guest?_

Draco stood up and peered out from the doorframe as Harry opened the door. “Hermione!” He hugged her, but something about it seemed off. Tense. “Where’s Ron?”

“He… I think he needed a little bit more time to himself,” Hermione said. Although Harry was blocking her, judging by the tone of her voice, his suspicions were confirmed. _What’s going on?_

Harry rubbed the back of his neck as he stepped to the side to let Hermione in. “That bad, huh?”

“Well, it’s not great. He’s pretty upset.”

Hermione stepped inside and caught Draco’s eye. “And who’s this?”

 _Goddammit_.

Hermione seemed eager to change the subject to anything else, but Draco wasn’t ready to move on. What had Harry done to make Ron that upset? If he was here, he might as well hear gossip. Draco wondered if whatever had happened had anything to do with Harry’s moodiness, but upon glancing to Harry, he realized he’d get little else out. Harry seemed relieved and welcomed any change to their conversation.

“I found him at the Leaky Cauldron. He’d been there for a little bit, Tom said. I thought I’d help him find his owners.” _Yeah, good luck with that, Potter._

“What were you thinking of doing?” Hermione asked.

“Not sure yet. I was going to ask you if you had some spell in mind – something that might give me a name or a general location or just something to work off of.”

“I’ll do some research into it.” Hermione walked over to Draco and bent down, stretching out her hand.

 _For Merlin’s sake…_ Draco dodged her hand and moved back into the kitchen, out of her direct line of vision. “Yeah, he’s not really social.”

“Well, if he’s been living on the streets for a while, no wonder. He must be traumatized!” Hermione said.

Draco snorted and settled down onto the floor. _Traumatized by your incompetency._

“I guess. He doesn’t seem particularly traumatized, and I swear that he can understand what I’m saying. If I just mention kibble, he practically attacks me. He’s the most spoiled.”

“Yeah, well, judging by the look on your face, you don’t mind it all that much.”

“It’s just nice to have someone around, even if that someone is a dog. He kind of reminds me of Sirius too.”

 _So close and yet so far, Potter._ “Oh, Harry…”

Draco closed his eyes and did his best to block out their conversation.

At one point, Harry took the steak and kidney pie out of the oven and cut three slices out of it, serving one to himself, Hermione, and Draco. As much as he hated to admit it, while it looked like a mess, it tasted rather good. _I guess you’re not as much of a mess as you look, Potter_.

Unfortunately, the meal was the only exciting thing that happened over the course of the next hour. While he was mostly successful in that, the kitchen floor eventually became too uncomfortable. He padded into the living room and was about to head down the hallway to the living room when he heard –

“But Hermione, really, how is Ginny doing?”

Draco stopped and changed his way toward the couch in the living room as well. The only space available was next to Harry, but he figured it was worth any pets that would be forced on him. He leapt up and stretched himself out, pushing Harry to one corner. Despite that, Harry looked genuinely happy that he was even sitting next to him.

“I think you gave up your right to ask about her,” Hermione said quietly, staring into her lap. “But… she’s okay. She’s taking it one day at a time. We had to convince her not to come over here and hex you the other day when she got drunk, but I think Ron almost wanted to let her do it.”

“I’d have deserved it.”

_You don’t have to be so cryptic about it._

Hermione sighed, still staring down at her lap and picking at the skin around her fingernails. Harry reached out and lay a hand on Draco’s head, trying to place his attention anywhere but at his upset friend. “I’m not going to argue with you, Harry, but you’re not doing anyone any good by beating yourself up this much over it.”

“I didn’t mean to fuck things up this badly. I loved her. I did.”

“You don’t do that to someone you love.”

Harry’s hand stilled for a moment, and when he began to pet him again, Draco could feel a slight tremble. He just continued to pet Draco in silence. Under normal circumstances, he would have pulled away or done something to keep Harry’s hand off of him, but Draco felt a surge of pity. Besides, he had to admit that it felt a little nice. The silence – not so much.

 _Please someone say something_.

Hermione eventually cleared her throat. “So, Malfoy.” Draco’s head flew up, and he made eye contact with her. _Are you in on it? Motherfucke—_

“We still are looking into it. He disappeared, Hermione!”

“Yeah, well, I hate to be that person, but you have to consider…” She trailed off and looked at Harry with a furrowed brow. “I know you want to believe the best in people.”

“Just finish your thought.”

_Yeah, Granger, finish it._

“You know where I’m going with this,” Hermione said.

“I do, but I want to hear it.”

“Like father, like son. Maybe the stress got to be too much, and he just wanted an out. I’m sorry, but he was a terror in Hogwarts.” _Well, fuck you too_. Draco barked, but they both ignored him.

“It was my first thought too, but they say he’s changed.” Draco barked again, but neither of them glanced in his direction.

“I know.” She shook her head. “It’s just hard to imagine anyone other than the Malfoy we knew.”

“Considering what happened to his father, I wouldn’t blame him if he did run away.”

“I just don’t get it. Have you talked to his mom?”

“She looked genuinely concerned. I don’t think she was lying when she said that he hasn’t been in touch with her in a while, and we put tabs on the house in case anyone tried to use Floo or Apparate there, but… nothing.”

Draco’s stomach fell out from underneath him. _Mother_. The last thing she needed was for Aurors to be standing watch over her all day. And he was sure they were just making her more worried. If only he could tell them that he was okay.

Draco let out a frustrated yelp before standing up. _There has to be some way to let them know._ He barked several times, nudging Harry with his front paws at each bark for added emphasis. Harry pushed Draco off after a few seconds of it and stood up. “Bad dog!”

Draco growled. _Please, Potter, it’s me. How thick can you be?_ He looked to Hermione for any sort of help, but she seemed just as surprised by Draco’s outburst.

“I think he wants you to take him for a walk.”

Draco snarled, and Harry wildly shook his head. “Tried that earlier. He doesn’t want to be walked.”

“Doesn’t want to be – Harry, who is this dog?”

_Who indeed!_

“I don’t know, but he looks angry, right? I’m not crazy?”

Draco let out another bark and glanced between them. _You two are hopeless_. He jumped off the couch and walked to Harry’s room. It was about all he could take of them staring at him obliviously. _I hate both of you._ The clues were right there. Hermione didn’t think he acted like a dog, and Harry didn’t believe that he could have disappeared for no reason.

Draco jumped up on the bed and spread out with a whine. This was going to take longer than he’d hoped. He just had to come up with a more foolproof way of letting them know. _Or maybe I’ll just bark every time they say my name, and then they’ll have to start asking the right questions_.

Draco put his paws over his face and closed his eyes, drifting into a light sleep that was interrupted by the sound of the door closing. Draco jerked up for a moment before kicking his legs out and stretching across the bed. _It’ll be the couch again for you._

When he heard the door to Harry’s room crack open, he closed his eyes. But after stepping in, Harry just stayed quiet. He didn’t move, didn’t try to get on the bed or get out of his clothes. He just stood there. After a few moments, Draco looked up, his curiosity piqued.

 _Shit_.

Draco wasn’t sure how Harry was managing to be quiet with tears streaming down his face. His shoulders shook, and he bent his head down after a moment. Draco’s eyes fell down to his hands as Harry’s hands balled up into fists tightly enough that his knuckles turned white. When he let go, there were little red indents from his nails, but he had stopped crying. Harry reached up and wiped across his eyes with his arm.

He ran a hand through his hair and took a long breath in and out before taking off his shirt and pants. Draco went to look away, but his attention snapped back onto Harry when he heard Harry sniffle. This was not how he had expected the night to end.

When Harry moved toward the bed, Draco begrudgingly moved over. _I suppose it’d be a dick move to kick you out of your room now._

Harry lay down next to him and wrapped an arm around him. The movement was sudden and surprised Draco. Harry leaned in, nuzzling himself against Draco’s chest, and Draco stiffened. _Just because you’re so clearly a mess…_

Harry’s hands ran through his coat haphazardly, and as much as he hated to admit it – for the second time tonight – it didn’t feel half bad. Still, they slowed down and eventually stopped as Harry fell asleep. Draco waited until Harry’s hand had slid off of him and he was snoring deeply before jumping off the bed and making his way to the couch in the living room.

Considering that Harry hadn’t gone to work yesterday, that meant the week was only beginning. _What a rotten Monday._

But tomorrow was a new day, and if he wanted to get Harry to take him seriously, he had to start playing nice. Besides, it looked like the poor guy could use a break judging by how today went. But it hadn’t been all for nothing. Harry was working on his case. That meant that, if nothing else, maybe he could find out what Harry knew. He talked a lot. And it meant he’d be looking. _You may not be the best at piecing together the clues, but I’m not going to stop until you realize who I am._

Draco stretched out on the couch feeling much better about tomorrow than he had felt about today, and it was with dreams of his apartment that he eventually fell into a deep sleep.


	4. Chapter Three

By the time Draco woke up, Harry was at work. As relaxing as he wanted his newfound freedom to be, it turned out that hours alone did little more than drive him stir-crazy. He knew if he could get out of the apartment, things would be better, but the rain outside did not relent. Regardless, Harry’s fenced in backyard could only provide a little amount of relief.

So Draco spent most of the morning hopping from the couch in the living room to Harry’s bed. At some point, he found himself halfway between sleep and consciousness when he heard the bang of the door.

Draco’s head shot out, and he leapt off of the bed toward the living room, only to find Harry, drenched from the rain. _Back so soon?_

“Hey there, boy,” Harry said, crouching down and stretching out his arms as if waiting for Draco to come toward him. _I’m not Lassie, Potter_. Harry seemed to quickly give up on the idea of Draco running towards him because he got up, kicked his shoes off, and made his way toward the kitchen.

“I figured that you and I could spend some quality lunch time together. I usually spend it with Hermione and Ron, but…” If his conversation with Hermione had been anything to go by, Draco knew that it had to have been a while since he had lunch with Ron. Harry cleared his throat. “Besides, you have to be hungry.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair as he rummaged through the fridge. “I don’t even know what to feed you?” He hummed as Draco stood behind him, trying to look past him to see what Harry had, but before he could, Harry had pulled a few things out and had shut the door. “You’re a dog. Dogs like bacon, right?” he asked as he tore open the package.

 _I’ll just be thankful it’s not Weetabix._ Draco laid down on the other side of the kitchen, giving Harry enough room to move around as he cooked. Draco yawned as he laid down, and Harry caught it.

“Must be a tough life, just lounging about and getting fed,” Harry joked, an affectionate smile spreading across his face.

 _Yeah, not as relaxing as you’d think being trapped as a fucking dog._ Draco huffed, and Harry raised an eyebrow.

“You know, I think Hermione was wrong about you, which – you don’t know Hermione, but it’s rare. She’s _always_ right. It’s usually pretty great, but sometimes it’s awful because –“ Harry frowned as he turned to grab a spatula to push the bacon around the pan. “Never mind. The point is that I think you can understand me.” Harry set the spatula and turned around and crouched to make himself as close to Draco as possible. Draco lifted up his head.

“Okay, boy. Bark once if you can understand me.”

Under any other circumstances, Draco would have been having the time of his life. As Harry stared intently at him, Draco could almost hear the gears in his head working. If the circumstances were any less dire, Draco would have gladly messed with his head, but he couldn’t afford to risk any chance he got at resolving this. But the moment must have passed for Harry in Draco’s hesitation because he began to get up.

 _Fuck_. Draco let out a belated bark, and Harry paused.

“Bark twice if you can understand me?” he tried, his voice sounding much less certain than it had just seconds earlier.

Draco barked twice.

Harry’s brown furrowed, and his stare deepened. After a moment, his relaxed and shook his hand. “Or maybe I’m crazy.” He shook his head and paused turning around to say, his voice light and mocking, “Bark if you know where Draco Malfoy is.”

 _Holy shit._ Draco stood up barking and lunging at Harry.

“Ow! Merlin! What are you doing?” Harry stepped backwards and knocked into the handle of the pan. “Fuck.” He cradled his elbow and looked at the damage before snatching the spatula and pointing it at Draco. “Bad dog!”

_I will murder you in your sleep, Potter. I swear –_

Draco bit the leg of his pants and pulled again. _You dim-witted goddamn idiot._

“Protego!” Draco slide back against the invisible barrier and growled. “What’s gotten into you?” Harry asked, cupping his burn on his elbow with his free hand. “Go!” He pointed away from the kitchen, toward the living room. Judging by the look in Harry’s eyes, Draco knew he wasn’t going to win this fight. His eyes stayed locked with Harry’s for a moment, and he bore his teeth before turning on his heel and moving to the living room.

 _I hate you. I hate you. I hate you_. Draco jumped on the couch and spread out, resting his head on his front paws. _If you don’t figure this out soon, so help me God_. Draco stared blankly ahead as Harry cooked. He could hear the sizzles and movement from the kitchen, and it was only a few minutes before Harry stepped out, a plate of bacon in one hand and a B.L.T. in the other. _I’m going to dehydrate just looking at that_.

“How are you doing?” Harry asked, keeping a safe distance. “Still angry?” Draco huffed and looked away from him. “This is what I mean when I say that I swear you can understand me.” Harry must have decided that it was safe because he began to step toward the couch. Draco lifted his head and barked loudly, snickering – or something similar to it – when Harry jumped.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” Harry scowled and set the plate down on the table before motioning to where Draco’s hind legs were kicked out behind him. “And what’s this?”

Draco threw a look over his shoulder at them but otherwise didn’t move.

“I’ve never met a dog so committed to being petty.” Harry pushed Draco to one side of the couch and sat down. Draco kicked his hind legs out again, whacking Harry’s thigh. “So help me God, when I find your old owner, I am going to have some strong words with them.” He took a bite out of his sandwich.

“Mmhph! I hab sometin’ to helb.” Harry jumped up – the sandwich still in his mouth – and moved over to his satchel. He dug for a moment before pulling out a camera.

 _I am not letting you plaster photos of me all over, Potter_. Draco jumped down from the couch and ran towards the kitchen, but Harry pulled the sandwich out of his mouth and moved faster, blocking him.

“So you’re camera shy! There’s no need to be worried. I just need one good photo, and –”

 _Absolutely not!_ Draco dove between his legs.

“Hey, come back!” Harry set the camera down on the table before running after him. Draco made his way into the bedroom and tried to nudge the door shut with his muzzle, but before he could, Harry came in. “Got you!” Harry jumped down on top of him, his arms enveloping him, and before Draco took a moment to think, he licked his face.

“Ugh, gross!” Harry wiped his face, oblivious as Draco froze. “I guess you have some dog in you, after all.” He sniffed his hand and mimed barfing before looking over at Draco.

Draco could feel the tension across his whole body. _What if I turn into a dog because I’m one for too long?_ Rationally, he knew it wasn’t true, but all he could think about was licking his face. When Harry’s hand ruffled the top of his head, it felt as if he was watching himself from outside as he turned to face him.

“Relax, buddy. It’s fine. I mean, your breath definitely stinks, but it’s really okay.” Harry bent forward and pressed a kiss to the top of Draco’s head.

With his eyes shut, all Draco could picture was Harry’s face last night – teary and crushed. As awkward as it was, having his hair – or fur, as it were – ruffled by none other than Harry Potter, it was a small price to pay for a roof over his head with – he hoped – the person who could help him undo this damn curse.

“Who knew this is what it took to get you to stop taking yourself so seriously.” Draco opened his eyes to see Harry staring at him. “Now, come and eat because I have to go in like five minutes.” With one last pet, Harry got up and made his way toward the living room.

 _Well, all right, then_. Draco sighed and got up as well, shaking himself off before making his way into the room. No sooner had he stepped out of the hallway then was he met by a bright flash.

“Aha! I got a picture!” Harry beamed and took another bite of his sandwich.

_Motherfucker._

“Now I just gotta put these up. Because if you were in Diagon Alley, that means whoever owns you can’t be a Muggle.” He bopped a stunned Draco on the nose before grabbing his satchel and stepping toward the door. “I’ll catch you later, bud.”

\- - -

Unsurprisingly, no one came forward about the photos, and about three weeks later, Harry seemed as if he had given up. At times, Draco was almost positive that Harry didn’t want to find someone. They had developed a schedule of sorts, and Draco had to admit that it wasn’t half-bad – or rather, as half-bad as it could be considering the circumstances.

Harry came home every lunch break. Sometimes he cooked, but mostly he seemed to stop by the grocery store to grab sandwiches and sausage rolls. Draco thought that he watched the TV an awful lot, especially after work, but after watching a few episodes of what appeared to be a show called _Game of Thrones_ , Draco could see the appeal.

Regardless, as much as Draco hated to admit it, it could be nice at times. Harry’s loneliness shone through at times when he would talk to Draco about something that had happened at work or in the store. No new moment had popped up for Draco to bark some sense into Harry to reveal who he was, but Draco had to admit that he felt oddly confident that he would work something out.

“I’m going to see Ginny this weekend,” Harry said, stabbing at his chicken tikka masala with his fork. Draco lifted his head up from his plate of it, waiting for Harry to continue. “Apparently Ron’s waiting to see how it goes to reach out. So Hermione said when we got coffee, but I’m hoping it’ll go okay.” Harry set his fork down and clasped his hands together in his lap. “Can I tell you something?”

 _I’m guessing you will anyway_. Draco stretched out on the couch and adjusted himself for a long speech. He gave a half-hearted bark and prepared to tune out.

“I knew it was a bad idea when I kissed Matthew, and I know it sounds stupid, but I felt like if I didn’t do it, I would go crazy.”

 _Matthew?_ Draco lifted his head and started intently at Harry. _You made out with a **Matthew**? That’s why Ginny left you?_

“I know it’s probably the worst thing I’ve ever done, but I don’t regret it.” Harry picked at the skin around his nails and looked down in his lap as he spoke, but Draco felt as if the couch fell out beneath him. “If anyone would get it, she would, but I still couldn’t tell her. I don’t know. I’m like the worst bisexual ever, right? Like isn’t that what they all say – bisexuals cheat and are greedy and –” Harry’s jaw clenched, and Draco could tell he was focusing his energy on keeping a straight face.

 _Holy shit._ Draco just tried to keep still. The moment felt fragile, as if he breathed too loudly or moved even an inch, Harry would stop. So Draco took shallow breaths and was careful not to move.

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. “I loved her, but things felt different. She kept on wanting me to talk about everything that had happened in the war, and I just couldn’t. There’s was all of this distance between us, and we were fighting half the time, so I kept on thinking, ‘What if this is it? What if we spend the rest of our lives together, and I never know what it’s like to kiss or to fuck another guy? What if I’m actually gay, and I don’t know it? Or what if I just never stop thinking about it, and it ruins the relationship anyway?’ But then I slept with Matthew –”

_Slept with?!_

“—and I couldn’t not tell her. It was like as soon as it happened I realized that I should have talked to her anyway, dealt with all the shit that had happened. As soon as I did it, I realized what an absolute prat I was.” Harry put his face in his hands. “I don’t think we would have worked out anyway, but that’s not the way I wanted things to end, you know? She was the first person I loved, and she deserved better.”

For the first time, Harry opened his eyes and made eye contact with Draco.

 _Oh, Potter_. Harry could barely hold back tears. He reached up, wiping his hand with his sleeve. “Who needs a therapist when you have a dog, am I right?” Harry sniffled and tried to smile, but it quickly faltered.

 _You and I have more in common than I think you realize_. Based off of the conversation with Hermione, Draco had assumed that Harry and Ginny must have broken up over something along the lines of cheating, but he had never assumed that this was it.

Draco steadied himself as he stood up and shifted on the couch. If there had ever been a moment he wished he could speak – removing the obvious – this was it. Had anyone told him it even a few weeks ago, Draco knew he would have scoffed at the suggestion, but for the first time in a long time, perhaps even years, Draco felt something close to kinship. _You shouldn’t have to get vulnerable to what you think is a dog because you can’t talk to your friends._ As Draco placed his head in Harry’s lap, Draco could feel Harry tremble.

The movement must have removed the last of his ability to keep from crying because before Draco could look up, he felt a tear drop onto the top of his head.

“I’m so scared to see her. I don’t know how to say I’m sorry and have her believe it,” Harry said. “I know I fucked up, and maybe it isn’t fair, but I need her to forgive me. Hermione and Ron too. I mean, Ron and I have gone months without speaking before, but somehow it didn’t feel so much like just my fault then. But now…”

For perhaps the first time, Harry did not look like Harry Potter to him. He looked human and fragile. _You can cry, Potter. It’s okay_. Draco nudged his head against Harry’s clasped hands, and a small laugh bubbled out of Harry. “I’ve tried to get you to like me enough to let me properly pet you for the past month, and this is what it takes? You are one strange dog.” Harry began by petting the fur around his face before moving down to his chest and sides. Draco pushed away the instant desire to jump back and instead tried to relax and enjoy the sensation.

It had been so long since he had let anyone touch him. With someone from the Ministry watching him like a hawk at all times, it felt foolish to try to start anything. He had thrown himself into work instead. It had always been easier that way. There had been a kiss or two at the bar, a few men in back rooms, one in his apartment.

But this was different, new. Certainly, to call it romantic would have been a stretch. _For all Potter knows, he’s petting a real dog_. Nonetheless, it took all of Draco’s energy to just let himself relax and let the moment wash over him. All he wanted to do was talk. _I know what it’s like not to want to tell anyone, to close yourself in._ But he couldn’t, so he just let the comfort of his touch speak instead.

“I wish you could tell me your story. I feel like it’s kind of unfair how much of the talking I do.” Draco snorted. _You do talk endlessly, Potter_. “Like how did you get a scar like this? Was it a fight? Did another dog bite you?” Harry reached down and ran a hand over his chest, and Draco’s throat tightened.

The moment slowly crumbled as he stood up and jumped off of the couch. _You gave it to me._ He had noticed how prominent the scar was the first few times he had transfigured, but he had forgotten since then. Draco’s breath caught in his throat as he remembered being thrown back against the tiled floor, getting colder.

“Buddy?” Harry had been calling him that lately as if that were his name. But Draco couldn’t look back. _What’s the point in getting comfortable? As soon as you find out who I am, it won’t matter. You’ll go back to your life, and I will have to deal with whatever they throw my way._

He could hear Harry stand up, but he made his way to the glass door to the backyard and pulled it open. _Deep breaths_. As soon as he crossed the threshold, Harry must have realized that there was no way to salvage the moment, and when Draco turned around, Harry had already left.

Draco waited out there long enough until the light in the living room and kitchen went off – long enough to be sure that Harry had gone to bed. He nudged the door to the outside closed as best as he could and walked over to the bedroom. The door was cracked, and even from outside, Draco could hear Harry snoring.

Draco pushed the door quietly open and walked in. Even in the darkness, he could faintly see Harry’s face. _You can do this_. Maybe they wouldn’t be friends after all was said and done, but if there was anything that was obvious, it was that Harry needed someone right now. And as complicated as it was, Draco tried to push it out of his mind, at least for tonight.

He jumped up on the bed and burrowed his head under Harry’s arm. Harry’s snores cut off, and he mumbled as he woke, if only for a moment. “Buddy?” Their eyes met for a moment before Draco broke their gaze and lay his head down on Harry’s chest. Harry’s arm tightened around him, and Draco listened as Harry’s breath slowed and eventually got deeper as he fell asleep.

\- - -

Draco knew that there was no way to go back to sleeping on separate pieces of furniture after that, and sure enough, Harry called him over to the bed the following night. And Draco had to admit, there didn’t seem to be any point in fighting it. He had already slept next to Harry, and regardless, there was nothing to do about the fact that Harry had already seen him in dog form. _You’ve won this round_.

Besides, since discovering that Harry was queer, things had felt slightly different. He’d been young enough when he’d realized that his initial assessment of Harry as the boy who had everything might have been too generous or blind. But since he’d seen Harry cry – twice now – it had been impossible not to see someone else.

_You’re really quite softer than who you pretend to be._

The rest of the week flew by quickly with no more heart-to-hearts, and Draco found that he was sleeping better than usual, something he figured had more to do with the fact that he was sleeping on the bed than it had to do with him sleeping with Harry’s arm draped over him. Nonetheless, when the weekend came and Harry left to go see Ginny, Draco felt oddly nervous.

He didn’t know what he expected, but a part of him, no matter how much he tried to push it down, couldn’t help but wonder if there was some outcome to this conversation that ended in Ginny coming back and him getting kicked out. After all, there wasn’t enough room in the apartment for him, Ginny, and Harry. And there wouldn’t be any reason for Harry to talk to him or hang out with him if Ginny were there.

 _Snap out of it._ Harry owed him nothing. There was nothing tying Harry to him other than loneliness. It was why he had him in the first place. Luck had it that Harry ran into him like this. There was no reason that it couldn’t disappear just as easily.

The hours dragged on, and Draco made his way in and out of the kitchen to look at the clock built into the stovetop.  It was almost one in the morning by the time the keys slid into the lock. Draco ran into the living room from the kitchen.

 _Do I look too eager?_ He barely had time to make it to the couch and rest his head before the door opened. _Why the fuck do I even care?_ Even as he wondered, he did his best to lift his head and try to look droopy, as if he’d just been woken up.

However, with the lights off, it was impossible to tell what the expression on his face was. Draco was sure Harry would flip the switch on and start talking immediately, but he moved slowly as if he was trying not to wake someone. He shut the door in slow motion and leaned against the back of it for half a minute before reaching for the switch. _Take your sweet-ass time. Sure. Merlin, you’re frustrating_.

As soon as the light turned on, Harry looked in Draco’s direction and yelped. “I thought you were asleep.” His hand went up to his hair, which was already a mess, and tugged at it. “But you’re not, are you, buddy?” He laughed and shook his head, and it took Draco a moment to smell it, but his dog nose couldn’t miss it.

 _That’s a lot of alcohol_.

Harry shook his head as he tossed his keys at the table and missed by at least an arm’s length. “Fuckin’ hell, that actually went better than expected.” _You could’ve fooled me._

Harry stumbled his way over to the couch and collapsed backwards on it. “She forgives me, I mean.” Harry let out a strangled laugh. “I don’t know why, but she does.” When Harry burps loudly and winces, covering his mouth, Draco knows that Harry has to be in for a rough night.

 _You, Harry Potter, are a train wreck._ Draco felt half-bad for wishing the worst upon him. As far as Draco could tell, Harry seemed perfectly capable of keeping resolution far out of reach.

“She’s also dating someone.” Harry threw his head back into the couch with purposeful vigor as if to hit it. “I feel so fucking guilty for being jealous. I don’t have any reason to be jealous, do I? But I still am, even though her girlfriend may be the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

 _Did she bring her girlfriend? Well, no wonder you’re such a mess_. Draco sighed and got up, moving his head to Harry’s lap and licking Harry’s hand as he moved it closer to scratch behind his ears.

“I just can’t believe it’s Luna.” Draco lifted his head and perked his ears up. _Lovegood?_ “I mean, I’m happy for them. I truly am, but I’m just so fucking sad and alone.” Harry slumped over and groaned. “My head hurts. I can’t do this.”

 _Up and at ‘em. We need to get you in the shower._ Draco pulled Harry up by his sleeves as Harry groaned.

“Why can’t you leave me be?” Harry whined, but he still followed Draco’s lead. He stumbled his way to the bathroom, and it was only once he was there that he seemed confused by what Draco was even doing. But when Draco jumped into the tub and tugged the metal handle until the faucet started running, Harry got the gist.

“I don’t know who owned you, but it’s really fucking strange that you’re basically taking care of me while I’m drunk. Like it’s almost like you’re **not** a dog.” Draco sighed. _If you weren’t pissed out of your mind, I would murder you right now._

But Harry could barely stand, and Draco was certain that he had already forgotten what he had said. Harry leaned over to move the water from the faucet to the showerhead and nearly slipped. Draco bit onto his shirt and tugged, steadying him.

“Buddy, what would I do without you?” _Have the world’s worst hangover._ He smiled at Draco and began taking off his shirt. After a moment of being tangled in its fabric, he managed to get it off.

 _This seems like my cue to leave_. But as if reading his mind, Harry leaned over and pushed the door shut. The round handle on the door was not one that Draco could open, and he glanced anxiously around the small space, trying to bury himself in a corner and give Harry some privacy.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Harry naked. It had happened a few times now, when Harry had changed in the bedroom while he was in it. But it always seemed easier to roll over on the bed or just close his eyes there. Here, Harry was mere steps away from him. When he heard Harry stumble, he jerked his head up from the wall towards him and barely had time to prepare as Harry caught himself, half against the wall and half on Draco’s back.

 _Who knew you could be such a disaster?_ He wondered whether it was better that he was here because he doubted it would be the last time Harry slipped and almost fell. Draco nudged Harry’s legs toward the bath, and he waited until he heard the shower curtain close behind him before turning around. It felt wrong to watch Harry’s silhouette, but he did anyway for a moment as Harry ran his hands over his face and through his hair. Eventually, he settled to look away again, letting there be as much privacy as there possibly could in such a small space.

_You’re going to have so many regrets when you find out._

Harry ran the water for a good twenty minutes before he stepped out and wrapped a towel around himself. He looked more like himself when Draco looked up at him, and even though the smell of alcohol lingered even after he brushed his teeth, he looked like he could be sober soon.

Draco barked for Harry to open the door and made his way to the bedroom as Harry finished getting ready. By the time Harry joined him on the bed, Draco was struggling to stay awake.

“Can I tell you something kind of bad?” Harry asked as he wrapped both arms around Draco and buried his face against his fur. Draco swallowed thickly at the sudden burst of affection. “I hope we never find your owner.”

Draco closed his eyes as he tried to understand why his heart felt like it couldn’t stop fluttering.

\- - -

Draco knew something had to be wrong when the clock moved past 19 o'clock on Wednesday, and Harry hadn't come home yet. Even when he had extra work, he frequently tried to finish it at home.  Nonetheless, Draco didn't start worrying until he saw the neon numbers read: 22:47.

 _Where the fuck are you?_ He didn't understand why he was even assuming the worst. If nothing else, Harry had proved himself fully capable of taking care of himself over the years. But whatever the case was, Draco knew it could be cause for concern. 

_Deep breaths. He's going to be fine. He's an Auror! Of course he's working weird hours. Honestly, it's weird he hasn't worked these hours before._

Still, he watched as the clock changed from 23:59 to 0:00 and felt a cold dread settle in. _Come on._

As it turned out, the door remained quiet and untouched until 2:23. By that point, he was certain every possible ill thought had made its way through his mind. _If something happened, no one would bother to tell a dog. I'd never see him again and never get a chance to say goodbye._ Even if he was in the hospital, Draco knew no one had any reason to check in on him. _A dumb dog would be the last thing on anyone's minds. No one's going to come check in on me, and then I'll starve. Or if they do come check in on me, they'll probably put me out on the street. No one would want me, and I'd be stuck a dog. Fuck._

So when the keys made their way into the lock, Draco's head swerved up. The door creaked a few inches before slamming open the rest of the way. Draco jumped off the couch, but no sooner had he made a few steps then was he hit by a wave of alcohol significantly more intense than that of Saturday.

"Shh, my dog is probably sleeping," Harry shout-whispered.

"I think your dog will be fine." The low voice was not one he recognized. Draco started moving slowly toward the door, but before he could, Harry and the mystery man came into sight.

"He's a weird dog. Very particularly," Harry said, and Draco felt a small knot form in his stomach.

_Fuck you too, Potter._

Draco watched as they stumbled in, their hands reaching for each other's hair, face, arm, whatever they could touch. A hot wave of shame and something else hit him as Harry pressed his face against this man’s face with nothing short of desperation.

Draco barked.

"That dog, you mean?" the guy asked, pointing at Draco.

"Shh, down boy," Harry said, not even bothering to look in Draco's direction.

The knot in Draco's stomach felt like it could not stop growing. Had it been a possibility, he was sure his face would have been flushed. He clenched his jaw and looked this stranger up and down before barking again. _Who do you think you are?_

But they both ignored him. The guy seemed cute and perhaps a year or two older than them, but something about him made Draco tense all over. _The only reason he's interested in you is because he's miserable and lonely and drunk as he, but you wouldn't understand. Bet you'll turn to Rita Skeeter with the hot gossip first chance you get._

Draco barked again, louder than before and ran forward, knocking into the man. Both he and Harry stumbled, but while the man laughed, Harry swerved to look at Draco for the first time. "Why are you so crazy? Why can't you be a normal dog for once in your life and go away?"

The words stung more than Draco expected to, and he reeled back, looking between them. Harry took the opportunity to grab the guy’s arm and move them towards the bedroom. Harry watched as they disappeared and flinched as the door slammed.

 _Fuck you and your stupid messes. I’m done cleaning up after you, Potter._ Draco’s heart would not stop pounding, and he paced the floor, trying to calm himself down, but nothing seemed to be working. _I should have known it was only a matter of time before you stopped caring._

All Draco could think about was the panic he had felt in thinking something was wrong. Instead, Harry was off having a life, as he was allowed to do, and Draco had never felt so stupid. And no matter how he tried to settle himself on the couch, he could not get comfortable. _I can’t wait until I get out of here._

His mind would not stop turning. By the time the sun rose and the door to Harry’s room opened, he had barely fallen into the lightest sleep. He woke to the man’s voice as he made his way across the apartment, Harry behind him.

“Man, I wish we didn’t have to run off to work.”

“Who are you telling?” Harry asked, laughing. “Feel free to shoot me a text if you’re free this weekend.”

 _Text?_ Draco wondered what that was code for.

He looked them up and down. Even though the man was dressed up and ready to leave, Harry was wearing nothing more than an untied bathrobe that Draco was relatively sure he had only seen in Harry’s closet. They paused in front of the door, and the man reached out, tugging Harry forward. Draco looked away.

 _Soon_ , he told himself. Soon, as soon as he figured out how to get Harry to see, he’d be able to go home to the privacy of his own flat and never deal with this again. Or at the very least, even if the Ministry had to have his way with him, he wouldn’t have to be stuck here.

He waited until he heard the door close to look up again. Harry crossed the room to the couch and plopped down. “Merlin, I really needed that,” Harry said as he stretched out. He reached to pet Draco, but Draco jumped down and made his way toward the bedroom. He ignored Harry’s shouts of protest and jumped up on the bed, hoping that he’d finally be able to get some rest.


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make up for my extended absence, I am posting another chapter.

As difficult as it was, Draco avoided Harry to the best of his ability. His new spot on the couch was uncomfortable, but it seemed smarter to Draco to forgo whatever strange friendship they had managed to forge. After all, it wouldn’t matter once Harry found out who he was. Draco was working more than ever to find a way to share the news with him. As it turned out, spending time away from Harry in addition to his time at work freed up quite a bit of time.

Draco had tried to find anything to write with and a large enough piece of paper within reach, but that plan had turned out to be a dud. He had also read through the front and back pages of the Daily Prophet whenever he could get his hands on it, hoping for any mention of his name. But none showed up. He had even tried to spell his name once with sausage links, but the d had looked too similar to an “O,” and he didn’t have enough sausages to get beyond the letter “R”. Instead of leading to any breakthroughs, the sausage incident just wound up with Harry spiraling with an existential crisis over the fact that a dog had spelled what he perceived to be “OR” in front of him.

Draco was running thin on patience.

The only comforting thing he could admit to was that it seemed that the strange man wasn’t coming back. He hadn’t thus far, and Harry had spent the majority of his time out of work at home. Draco wasn’t even entirely sure why he was so pleased that this man hadn’t come back.

_Harry’s an adult. He can do whatever he wants._

But gradually, after a week and a half, he had relented to spend his evenings once more with Harry, as long as there was some distance between them.

Harry, funnily enough, had seemed to get his gist with this at least and had stopped coming home for his lunch break. He even stopped talking to Draco as much. Instead, they spent their evenings in the same room, Harry sometimes reading, sometimes on his laptop, and Draco lounging about or plotting his next attempt at revealing his identity. And as much as he hated to admit it, he missed their longwinded conversations. The loneliness was beginning to eat him alive.

The more distance he had from the event with the man, the more difficult it was to remember why he was refusing any conversation or attention. _A person can go mad locked up with no one to talk to_. And it certainly was beginning to feel to him like he was locked up.

Evenings seemed like a good compromise. Their weekly lunches had been too much and sleeping together seemed like it would only lead to regret and disgust from Harry once he found out who he was. But sometimes Draco found himself glancing over at Harry while he read or scrolled through social media, news, and work on his laptop, his face scrunched up in half-concentration.

Periodically, Harry would catch him staring and would look over as well. Their eyes would meet, and for a moment, Draco would consider dropping the act. _Maybe he won’t hate me when he figures out who I am._ He would think it for a moment before looking away.

_In what universe would Harry Potter want to be friends with Draco Malfoy? He turned me down once. Why give him another opportunity?_

About three weeks after the _incident_ – as Draco had dramatically deemed it – occurred, Draco realized one evening that Harry was late to show up. As much as the obvious solution was overtime of sorts, Draco’s mind kept on flittering to the image of Harry’s hands all over that other man’s. It wasn’t that he particularly wanted to think about it, but it seemed impossible to push away.

When the door opened sometime around 19:30, Draco made sure not to look up. But before the door was even all the way open, he heard a familiar voice.

“Listen, I know what Nott said, but I don’t trust him. His statement didn’t make sense,” Ron said. _What Nott said?_ Draco wondered if it was Theo. _About me or something else?_

Harry, however, didn’t immediately respond. He waited for them both to settle in. They threw their satchels down and made their way to the living room. “C’mon, boy, move over there,” Harry said, pointing to the armchair. _I’m not moving for you or Weasley._ Draco was about to bear his teeth when Ron waved his hand dismissively.

“I think I prefer the armchair anyway, Harry.” Ron plopped down and kicked his feet up so that they rested on the table. _I guess you two are back to speaking terms and all_. Draco glared at his feet, but Ron didn’t seem to notice. “And I see what you mean. He’s very pretty.”

It took a moment for Draco to register that Ron was talking about him. He snorted and shook his head. _Just wait until you find out you’ve basically called me a pretty boy. Hope I get to see that reaction._ Draco smirked, and both Harry and Ron watched him with fascination.

“See, he’s practically a human! I swear. I don’t know if it’s just because of Sirius or if it’s actually because of him, but sometimes he makes me wonder.”

_Wonder harder! Merlin, you would think the Chosen One would have more wits about him than you. The world should clearly thank Granger more than it does._

Ron smiled at him, and Draco rolled his eyes and settled back into the couch, head on his paws. “I get why you think it, but I’m not so sure. Anyway, I thought you said you’d given up on that theory.”

“Yeah, I mean, he’s definitely been more doggish lately. He’s been weirdly standoffish too. I really don’t know. I’m just glad Hermione’s figured something out.” Draco’s ears perked up. _Figured what out?_ He waited with baited breath for Harry to elaborate, but instead, Harry switched gears. “Oh God, what we were we talking about before?”

_Dammit, Potter!_

“Nott’s statement,” Ron said. As much as he wanted to find out what Hermione had figured out, Draco thought this also seemed like it could be of importance.

“Oh right! No, I’m with you. Theodore did seem very rehearsed.”

_It is Theo. What did the fucker say?_

“We checked their wands, and none of them cast the curse that toppled the front of the pub,” Ron said, but he sounded skeptical.

“The thing is, I don’t think they’re lying that Draco did that.” _Draco?_ Draco supposed Harry had also referred to Theo by his first name as well.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it at all,” Ron said with an exasperated look on his face. Draco lifted his head and barked at Ron. Startled, Ron jumped but said nothing.

“But it doesn’t make sense. The doctors and nurses we’ve interviewed at St. Mungo’s said that he was on his best behavior. Why would Draco blow up a pub, hex them, and then run away?”

Draco was sure if it were possible, the color would have drained from his face. He could feel the world spinning. There was no way for him to refute this, and while he knew he should have seen it coming, it didn’t feel real. No amount of barking would alert Harry or Ron to who he was if it hadn’t already. He didn’t want to interrupt the conversation again, so Draco chose just to listen. _Listen now, figure this shit out later._

“I mean, we’re talking about the same Malfoy, right?” Ron asked. Draco clenched his jaw. “It wouldn’t be the first shitty thing he’s done.”

“Trust me, I know. But you said yourself. What Theodore said didn’t make sense.”

“I don’t trust Malfoy, but I trust Nott even less to not have some ulterior motive behind this. I don’t think he and Malfoy have been hanging out,” Ron said.

“No, definitely not.”

“But I don’t know. He’s kept to himself mostly – it sounds like. What if Nott is telling the truth?”

Harry didn’t reply for a few seconds. He pursed his lips and rubbed the back of his neck as he stared down into his lap. “I don’t think he’d put his mother in danger.” Draco felt his blood run cold. _How so?_

But he didn’t get an answer. Harry continued speaking. “He’s an absolute prat – worse than that – but I just can’t see it. Sixth year when Dumbledore di –” Harry cut off and took in an unsteady breath. He calmed himself and continued, “When Dumbledore died, you didn’t see him. Theodore made him sound like he practically wanted to kill them, but if he wasn’t a killer then, I don’t think he’d be one now. I don’t know where he is, but I think it’s more complicated than they want to let on.”

Even though the words were far from a compliment, the soft edge to Harry’s voice and his insistence in the face of all evidence made Draco falter. He felt a twinge in his throat and before he could stop himself, he shifted, setting his head against Harry’s leg.

Harry looked down in surprise and pet Draco’s head tentatively.

“I hope you’re right,” Ron said, making Draco jump and pull back. He had almost forgotten that the two of them were not alone in the room. “But I agree that he wouldn’t do that to his mum.” He shook his head. “I think it’s shit that they’re trying to do that.”

“A lot of people don’t like the Malfoys and thought they should have all gotten harsher sentences for harboring Voldemort,” Harry said. He shook his head.

“She doesn’t deserve to take the fall for Draco,” Ron said, and Draco’s world began to crumble again.

“I agree.” He took his glasses off and set them on the table before pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s why I think he has to be lying. Say what you will about him, but Draco cares about his mother. He wouldn’t let her get six months in Azkaban because of something he did. And I think the Auror’s Office knew that too. That’s why they did it. They were hoping he’d come out of the woodwork.” Harry grabbed his glasses off the table and twisted them between his fingers. “It’s all a little messed up.”

 _They can’t legally do that, can they?_ Draco jumped down, no longer feeling like he could stay put. _I can’t let her get hurt because of what Theo did._ Draco knew Theo and the Carrows must have been reveling in their victory. It certainly had all turned out to be larger scale than Theo had initially hoped. _Think Draco. How do you get it through their thick skulls? Fuck._

“I hate the git –” _You’re not all sunshine and roses either, Weasley._ “—and I’m not too fond of his mum, but she doesn’t deserve it,” Ron said. “But considering what Rita Skeeter published…”

_I’ll murder her too once things get back to normal._

“I don’t understand how people can still believe her,” Harry said.

“Yeah, well, people love a good story, and what’s better than a wife and son of a former Death Eater conspiring together to make some sort of a comeback?”

 _That bitch._ But Draco couldn’t muster the energy to be angry. The only thing he could focus on was the unmistakable cold fear that slowly crawled all over him. To avoid shaking, he paced the room, wracking his brain for some sort of solution.

“But she’s never published the truth. They know that! How can they use her article as proof to take Mrs. Malfoy down? This entire investigation, she’s been telling us to find her son and bring him back, and now suddenly because of article by some maniac, she’s going to go to Azkaban?”

“I know, but –”

“I became an Auror to make a difference and make sure that nothing like what happened happens again. What kind of people are we if we start pointing fingers and throwing innocent people in jail over something we have no proof of?” Harry slammed his hands on the table and stood up, tugging at his hair.

Ron jumped and looked over at Draco as if he could help, but Draco could not stand still long enough to walk over to Harry, let alone try to comfort him. His thoughts were only on his mother as he debated whether jumping on Harry – for what had to be the sixteenth time – would do anything other than earn him a spot in Harry’s bedroom and away from this conversation. _I cannot let her get hurt._

“Harry? You okay, mate?” Ron placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder as Harry quickly fixed his hair as best as he could and put his glasses back on.

After fixing himself, he rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat. “Yeah, no. Sorry about that. I just – Too many people have already gotten hurt. I’m supposed to be leading this investigation, but they won’t let me get a proper say in. If something goes wrong, it’ll be on me, not on them.”

“That’s why it’s so easy for them to say it’s the right move. But look, I’ll back you up, and maybe you can reach out to Kingsley.”

“He’s busy with other things right now. I don’t want to bother him.”

“Even if just to stall, you should bother him,” said Ron. Harry plopped back down on the couch, and Draco sighed, trying to calm his queasy stomach as he moved back as well, resting at the foot of it.

The conversation veered into other topics from there, but Draco could not find himself at ease enough to pay attention. When Ron finally left, he gave Harry a long hug and said, “Hermione and I will meet up with you after work, and we can all Apparate over. Just have the dog ready to go.”

Draco’s head snapped up again. _For what?_ Amid the worry for his mother, he had forgotten the initial topic that had piqued his interest. Thankfully, after Ron left, he didn’t have to wait for long to hear an explanation. Perhaps Harry had taken their brief moment of affection on the couch to be a rekindling of their former friendship or perhaps he had found himself in an explanatory mood after seeing Ron – Draco wasn’t sure which. Either way, he bent down to Draco’s lever and scratched behind his ear.

_I’ll let you but only considering the circumstances._

“Hermione has been trying to create a spell to help with our predicament, Buddy. She took a locator spell and reversed it. So instead of a person locating an object, it’d be like an object locating an owner. Only you’re not an object, so it’s a little more complicated.” Harry smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’m going to miss you, Buddy. I could really use you right now with everything that’s happening, but –” He shook his head. “You deserve your real home.”

 _More than you could possibly guess, Potter._ Draco paused. _Harry._ It seemed like the least he could do was to repay the favor of using his first name.

\- - -

The next day, Draco wildly searched the apartment while Harry was at work for anything he could have possibly missed to reveal who he was. The later it got, the more anxious he felt. _I have to do it while Granger is here. She can figure it out._

It had been a bust the first time she had come around, but something told Draco that if he could just get it right, Hermione would know. He just had to figure out a way to draw her attention and make her question him. It seemed like no matter what outlandishly un-doggish thing he had done, Harry had found a way to explain it away as a product of him being the pet of a magical owner.

_No more. There’s no room for uncertainty. Mother’s life depends on it._

But as the clock struck 17:00, Draco became less certain he would be able to pull together something in time. The stress was getting to him, and everything was beginning to look like a blur. He took a deep breath and stopped in front of the bookshelf. _What nonsense do you own, Potter?_ The collection was rather small, and a good fourth of the books had to have come from school classes.

He was about to continue pacing when he realized – _Merlin’s beard! This could actually work. I just need to hurry._

Draco had prepared everything as best as he could and had been pacing the apartment for half an hour before he heard the door open. Harry, Ron, and Hermione appeared to be in good spirits, chatting and distracted, but as soon as Harry saw the mess on the floor, his face scrunched up.

“Buddy, what did you do that for?”

Harry walked over towards the books on the floor, but Draco leapt at him, blocking him, and growled. “This is the dog you want to keep?” Ron asked, laughing as he made his way over as well. But as he reached down toward one of the books, Draco snapped at his hand. _Don’t you dare._ He growled and felt the fur on his neck rise up.

“Bloody hell, what’s his problem?” Ron asked, taking back his hand and nursing it even though Draco hadn’t bitten it.

“Harry, don’t you think it’s odd that he’s organized these books straight down in a column? I mean, it isn’t even crooked.” _Thank goodness someone has more than half a brain here._ As Hermione stepped forward, Draco let her.

“Honestly, I think he’s just been impatient and made a mess,” Harry said, reaching down, but this time Hermione smacked his hand out of the way.

“There’s no clear pattern here.” _Come on._ Draco moved forward, trying to hit at the beginning of each title with his paw. He watched Hermione’s face, feeling a sense of victory as the truth clearly dawned over her, and she blanched. “I think the two of you are going to want to see this,” Hermione said, her voice trembling. She bent down as Harry and Ron looked over at the books.

“What is it?”

“Look at the first letter of each of the titles.” She motioned down the line:

**_D_ ** _ragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland_

**_R_ ** _obinson Crusoe_

**_A_ ** _ncient Law_

_A **C** ompendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions_

**_O_ ** _ne Minute Feasts - It's Magic!_

It wasn’t perfect. The article in the compendium caused for complications, but it was the closest to a book starting with the letter “C” that Harry owned.

Draco watched as the realization washed over Harry’s face as well. Harry’s eyes met his, and he stumbled backwards. “Draco?” he asked. His voice was small, as if he was worried of being wrong.

_Finally._

Draco barked.

“As in that dog is Draco Malfoy?” Ron asked, looking around the room. Judging by his face, he was thoroughly convinced that this was all an elaborate ruse. Draco was half-sure looking at the way he glanced toward any hidden corner that he expected Draco in human form to jump out from the kitchen, in on the prank all along.

_I would love nothing more than to do that. But lucky me, I’m a dog._

Draco barked again, waiting for someone to respond.

“Give me a moment.” Hermione waved her wand, conjuring hovering magical light in the form of the alphabet across Harry’s floor. “I think we need to ask you a few questions.”

Draco nodded and waited for them to recover. “Are we sure this is actually Draco and not some really odd, clever dog?” Ron asked.

Draco moved around, tapping each letter of his response. As he did, duplicate letters appeared over him in the order he tapped them, spelling out his response: **_Yes, I’m sure, you dim-witted ginger._**

Although he tried to suppress it and Draco was sure no one else saw, he was certain he had seen the faintest twitch at the corners of Harry’s mouths. Ron, on the other hand, glared at Draco.

“Well, this certainly explains a lot,” Harry said. “And I’m going to take a wild guess and say you’re not like this on purpose. Did someone transfigure you?”

“Couldn’t have made him a ferret like last time,” Ron mumbled, and Hermione jabbed him with her elbow.

“Ron!”

“I’m just saying…”

Draco ignored them, spelling out his response instead. **_I’m an Animagus, but Theo put a curse on me to trap me in this form._**

“An Animagus, but you’re not registered?” Hermione spoke in the softest voice, and Draco bristled as he saw her pity. _I would rather you didn’t_ , he thought as he responded simply by shaking his head. “Oh dear.”

“Oh.” Through the entire realization, Harry looked as if he had been in a trance, but when he spoke, his eyes suddenly gained clarity. “You kept on barking every time I mentioned your name. I never saw it before because I just thought you were going crazy for no reason, but…” Harry’s shoulders slumped forward. “Some Auror I am.”

Draco had been sure that his first reaction would be to scoff and agree, and yet as Harry spoke, he felt nothing but sympathy. He moved toward the letters again. **_Not your fault._**

“I can’t believe I never noticed it.”

 ** _My mother?_** Draco spelled out.

Hermione looked at both Harry and Ron, but both seemed overwhelmed. Although she appeared just as rattled, she cleared her throat and took charge. “She’ll be okay. Harry and Ron just spoke to Kingsley. He’s going to attempt to reason with the other Aurors, but he seemed to be convinced he could only buy us time, little else.

**_Doesn’t matter. I’ll come forward tomorrow if I have to._ **

“No.” Harry shook his head and bent down, placing his hands on either side of Draco’s face. Draco felt a chill run through him and leaned into Harry’s hands without realizing it. “They’ll take you away if you’re unregistered, and who knows what they’ll do with you. We at least need to get you back to human form.”

Unwillingly, Draco pulled away and went back to spelling out his response. **_Not if it puts my mother at risk._**

“I won’t let that happen, and neither will they. Please, trust us. Hermione will find the counter-spell to this. You can’t face them when you can’t even talk. They have been so cruel. You haven’t heard the things they’ve been –” He placed a hand under Draco’s chin and tilted his head up to meet his eyes. “Please Draco, listen to me.”

 _Do I have much of a choice? I can’t leave without you._ But while he thought that, Draco couldn’t do anything to stop the warm feeling that spread across his chest. The tone Harry spoke to him in was nothing other than utter concern, and as far as Draco could recall – _no one has bothered to care before. Not outside of Mother._

Ron coughed awkwardly, and Draco jerked his hand away. “I hope you know that no one is ever allowed to make fun of me for not figuring out that Scabbers was more than a rat again. Because at least he was trying to pretend to be a rat. Malfoy was clearly trying to tell you this whole time, Harry.”

Harry smiled tiredly. “Fair enough. Hermione, do you think you can figure out a spell in the next day or two?” he asked, turning to face her.

“I’ll do my best, but if I can’t...” She looked over at Draco and motioned for Harry to follow her to the kitchen. Ron followed them with one final glance and head-shake toward Draco. Even though they spoke in hushed voices, Draco could hear them clearly.

“I already know what you’re going to say,” Harry said.

“I know, but I need you to listen. If I can’t do this, you need to turn him in. We could all get in trouble for this, you most of all. And I appreciate your, but –” She hesitated.

“But Malfoy isn’t a hill worth dying on,” Ron finished. Draco closed his eyes and tried not to focus on the sound of his heart pounding in his ears.

“Ron!” There was the sound of a smack before she continued. “I just think you need to consider what you’re doing and what you’re asking of us. If they find out that we knew Nott was lying and where he was all along, it could cause trouble.”

“And if that happens, I will take the fall,” Harry said. “I appreciate your concern, but I am not going to let them take him. He doesn’t have anyone else left to stand up for him. He’s changed, and not just as – you know – as a dog. I’ve been living with him for months. He’s not the same person we knew at Hogwarts.”

The apartment was still for a moment, and then Hermione spoke. “I’ll get working on it tonight, and hopefully we can have this sorted soon.” As soon as he heard their footsteps, Draco scrambled back to the alphabet to form a response.

**_Thank you._ **

He met Harry’s eyes, and it was as if Ron and Hermione melted away. There was more Draco wanted to put into words but didn’t know how. “ _No one has ever fought for me before._ ” Or “ _Thank you for trying._ ” Or “ _I don’t understand why you’re choosing to sacrifice your job after everything I did to you as a child._ ” But he was too scared to put it into words – too scared that the moment it was said that it would all blow away.

After a long silence, Harry nodded again and smiled. “You’re welcome.”


	6. Chapter Five

Harry waited until he heard the sharp crack of Hermione and Ron Apparating before his gaze settled on Draco and he stared introspectively. The weight off of Draco’s chest felt as if it momentarily lifted, but as soon as he remembered that he had to likely spend the next few days with Harry, it doubled down. He glanced up to meet Harry’s gaze, and after a moment, he moved back over to the alphabet that Hermione had gracious taught Harry how to cast.

**_Are you just going to stare, or are you going to tell me what you’re thinking?_ **

Harry read Draco’s words and sighed. “It’s stupid.”

 ** _Try me, Po—_** He stopped halfway through Harry’s name. After all, if he’d seen this much of him, the least he could do was call him by his first name. **_Harry._**

“Lucky me, we’re on a first name basis now.” He laughed, stepped over to where Draco was, and bent down. His hand rested on the top of Draco’s head for a moment before he plopped himself on the floor and crossed his legs. “I picked you up because you reminded me of Sirius, and I didn’t even realize that you were also an Animagus.”

Draco stepped over to the alphabet before making his way back to Harry. **_Yeah, I’d gathered as much. Are you mad?_**

“At you?” Harry waved his hand dismissively and smiled wistfully. “The Auror’s office, for sure, but that’s just about it.” He scratched behind Draco’s ear for a moment, and Draco’s spine stiffened. _Is it awkward to keep doing this now that we both know?_ Harry must have decided that it was because his hand dropped. _Probably the right call._

“I just keep thinking about everything you’ve seen,” Harry said. “Everything I’ve told you… I’m pretty sure you know more than my friends about how I’m feeling.” Harry barked out a humorless laugh.

Draco’s stomach knotted. No doubt, he had seen Harry at some of his more vulnerable moments. He had even been there, by his side. _Maybe I shouldn’t have._ He knew this would just make things more complicated when the truth came out, but it had seemed so far off then. **_You cry a lot._** He meant it more playfully than it was possible to come when written, and Harry flushed and looked down at his hands in his lap.

“I guess I do.” He shook his head. “I should probably go to bed and leave you alone. I’m going to meet with Hermione relatively early. She’s going to gather a few books today, and…” He shook his head. “You don’t need all the details. I’ll take the couch, and you can have the bed.”

Judging by Harry’s voice, he was beginning to shut down, and, with that, shut him out. Draco felt a certain coldness seep into the room, and he swallowed thickly. Harry stood up and grabbed his jacket from where it lay over the arm of the sofa. No words would come to Draco as Harry walked past him toward the sliding door and out the back.

 _Fuck._ Draco stepped towards the door to the backyard as well and gently grabbed the handle with his teeth. But as Harry pulled a cigarette out of the pack and lit it wandlessly, he thought better and let go. Harry did not realize he was being watched or must have decided not to turn around if he did. Instead, he stared forward, a steady stream of smoke rising past him and into the air.  
  
_Fine. Be that way, then._ Draco stepped away from the door and moved back toward the living room. The blazing alphabet had vanished, and for the first time in a while, Draco was struck by the silence.

Although Harry had told him that he could have the bed, Draco didn't feel comfortable. Surely, he figured, it would be best to take the couch. _The sooner this is resolved, the better._ He hoped onto the couch and spread out, wishing he were something a little less conspicuous or that the ground would swallow him up. He had known he was getting too comfortable. He had known the truth would cause problems.

Harry must have had more than one cigarette or simply not have wanted to come back in because Draco was nearly asleep by the time he heard the door open and shut. Nonetheless, Draco kept his eyes shut, not wanting to start a conversation. He heard Harry's footsteps pause in front of him. "I told you to take the bed," Harry muttered under his breath. Draco waited but heard nothing else. He wondered if Harry had treaded lighter once he headed to his room, but before he could open his eyes to check, he heard a sigh. After a moment, Harry walked away, and before he had finished washing up in the bathroom, Draco had fallen asleep.

\- - -

When Draco woke the next morning, the apartment was empty. He found a note pinned to the bedroom door, which was shut for the first time that Draco could recall.

"Draco,  
I've gone to do research with Ron and Hermione. I expect I won't be back until late. I've left easy to reach food in the fridge.  
Harry"

Draco wasn't sure if it was possible for Harry to sound terser. The sinking feeling in his stomach returned stronger than before, and he walked back over to the couch and lay down, trying to calm himself down. As it turned out, it was impossible to sit still, and after pacing the apartment several times, he made his way outside. As he stared at a bird with a worm in its beak, he couldn't help but wonder if Harry was using his time with Ron and Hermione as an opportunity to avoid him.

His theory was quickly proven to be true. Harry did not come back until late that night – hours after the sun set – and went immediately to bed. The next day held nothing but the same in store, only this time Harry had not bothered to pin a note. Draco knew that he should have been grateful. After all, Harry and his friends were taking on a risk with each additional day they withheld information. However, the passing time only made his anxiety worse.

The free time just prompted more time for Draco to worry about what would happen to him and to his mother. Before, it had seemed like little more than an unpleasant thought that popped up on occasion. Now it hovered over him – inevitable and ever-approaching.

That second night, Harry did not even return, and Draco fell into a light sleep after sunrise. But when Draco woke up in the afternoon, Harry was already there. And when Draco woke up, it was to the sound of the door closing behind Harry yet again.

_You can only avoid me for so long._

At least so he thought. Even when Draco was awake, Harry would disappear to his room for half an hour at a time before leaving again. Draco presumed Harry was staying at Ron and Hermione’s; although, he couldn’t be sure. Certainly, Harry did not want to deal with him. Draco couldn’t for the life of him figure out why Harry would take on such a risk if he didn’t even want to deal with him face-to-face, but he supposed he would have to settle for what he could get.

_I’ll take any help I can get at this point._

In fact, it took four days before anything changed. Draco was outside when he heard the door bang open. “Draco!” Harry called his name so loudly that Draco jumped. He had gotten used to the silence hanging over Harry’s apartment while Harry wasn’t there. But when he walked in, he saw Hermione and Ron there as well.

 _This is it._ Judging by the exhausted but triumphant look on Hermione’s face, Draco was certain they had figured it out. He sat down and stared anxiously from face to face, waiting for someone to speak. Finally, Harry did, but as he spoke, he avoided Draco’s eyes.

“We have the counter-spell figured out, and you’re allowed to stay here tonight, but we’re going to need to meet with Kingsley tomorrow. He already has been informed about what’s been going on. We can get more into the details later, but I think we should first…” He motioned to Hermione, who had clearly been designated to cast the spell.

She stepped forward and gave Draco an apologetic smile. “I can’t promise that there won’t be any unpleasantness.” With that, she lifted her wand and took a deep breath. “Redire ad te. Integrum reddere. Veritas se revelet.” The same burning sensation he had felt when Theo had first cast the spell kicked in warm, and it was followed by the also familiar unpleasant warmth, only this time it felt as if it started covering his entire body and reduced smaller and smaller, down his legs, onto his torso, over his head until –

Draco let out a shout and grabbed his head, but everything has stopped. He let go slowly and stared down at the pale skin of his arms as he took an unsteady breath. The distance between himself and the ground felt oddly large, and it felt odd to be able to roll his shoulders back. He swallowed thickly and looked up at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. He meant to thank them and ask how they had figured it out, but when he opened out, instead he found himself asking, “Can I get a change of clothes?”

Hermione laughed behind her head and let out a sigh of relief that cut the tension of the room. “And here I was worried it’d go wrong.”

“I think I already regret changing him back,” Ron said.

“I mean, thank you. I don’t –” Draco felt at a loss of words. “I really appreciate it.” He nodded stiffly at Hermione and Ron before turning to face Harry.

“Oh, right. I guess, it’d be my clothes. Yeah, let me see what I have.” He motioned for Draco to follow and walked towards his room. Draco smiled at Hermione and Ron once more before shuffling past them and towards Harry’s room. “I think we’ll have more luck with Muggle clothes of mine that’ll fit you if that’s alright with you,” Harry said.

Since the war, they had somehow integrated themselves into the wizarding world. Draco wasn’t complaining. They were significantly more comfortable during the warmer months than some of the summer cloaks. He owned several shirts himself. “That’d be fine,” Draco said. He tried to meet Harry’s eyes, but Harry continued to stare forward. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem.”

Draco still wasn’t used to this, and he supposed Harry might not have been either. For months, he would have given anything to be able to talk, but now, he just wished he had an excuse for the heavy quiet that hovered between them. Harry handed over a t-shirt and boxer briefs before rummaging through his closet for a pair of jeans. For a full minute, Draco debated what to say. He had questions, of course, but this didn’t seem like the time to start any of those conversations. He supposed he should start with something casual, but nothing came to mind. Just when he felt as if the silence might suffocate him, Harry pulled out a pair of jeans and spoke.

“This one might be long enough that you can get away with cuffing it. I never wear them because they would go under my shoes. You’re –” He motioned down Draco’s legs – without a doubt longer than his own. And when he handed Draco the jeans, Draco closed his hand around Harry’s, hoping to finally get Harry to look at him _._ For the first time, Harry’s eyes met his, and Draco felt as if most of what he wanted to say suddenly got caught in his throat. Everything had become natural before – a daily rhythm for them – and all Draco could wonder why it had to be so awkward.

“Thank you. For everything,” Draco said, and he squeezed Harry’s hand lightly. Without Harry and his friends, Draco knew he likely would have been stuck in Diagon Alley, stuck in dog form for a significantly longer time.

“Draco, I n–” But before Harry could complete what he wanted to say, someone knocked on the door. Harry jerked his hand away from Draco and turned toward the door.

“Harry, is it okay if we head –” Harry opened the door “—home?” Ron asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically at Draco. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s going to be fine,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes and rubbing Ron’s shoulders. “I think we need some sleep. The next few days are going to be…” She shook her head. “I’m sure both of you need some rest as well.”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry said. “I’ll see you tomorrow at work. Just give me one second to…” He motioned toward the bathroom as he glanced in Draco’s direction. “If you want to wash up, there should be a spare towel under the sink.”

Draco could tell when he wasn’t wanted anymore and mumbled apologies as he moved out of the room and to the bathroom. Before he stepped in, he cleared his throat and coughed, hoping to attract everyone’s attention. Everyone paused to look at him, and he gave them all a tight-lipped smile. “I just wanted to say thank you again. Without you, I’m not really sure where I’d be.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And I know you stuck your necks out to help. I just want to say that I really appreciate it.”

Hermione, unlike Ron and Harry, smiled brightly. “I’m glad we could help. I’m just sorry we didn’t realize it earlier.” Ron nodded in agreement, and Draco stepped into the bathroom and shut the door before the situation could get any more awkward.

He set down the clean clothes and turned on the water before moving toward the door and pressing his ear against it. Even though it was faint, he could still hear Harry, Ron, and Hermione as they spoke.

“Are you going to –”

“I’ll be fine, Ron,” Harry said, interrupting him.

“One of us can stay if you want to have a break,” Hermione said.

“No, there’s still more I need to tell him about what’s going to happen and everything.” Draco furrowed his brow and leaned more against the door as Harry’s voice dropped. He could only catch small bits of what Harry said: “gone by tomorrow” and “finally be able to breath.” With a heavy feeling settling over him, he stepped back from the door.

Certainly, he hadn’t been expecting things to be as they had been after he was changed back. But he hadn’t assumed Harry would see him as such a burden. He undressed himself and stepped into the shower. As he washed up, he tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it felt caught. He spent longer than he meant to in the bathroom and let the water run over him long after he had finished cleaning up, but he wanted to be certain that when he stepped out, it would just be Harry. Even still, a part of him did not want to face Harry.

But he knew he couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever. After drying himself up, dressing, and brushing his hair, he figured it was time to step out. Harry’s bedroom door was open and empty, and his living room and kitchen were too. For a moment, Draco began to wonder if Harry had left with his friends, but the sound of the door to the backyard sliding open alerted him otherwise.

Harry smelled like cigarettes. He stopped when he saw Draco. “You’re done showering.”

“Yeah, just finished.”

The silence settled between them, and Harry looked down at his hands as he fiddled with them. “The clothes fit alright?”

“Well, I wouldn’t pick them out myself,” Draco said, trying to avoid thinking how ridiculous the cuffed jeans must look on him. “But yeah, they do. Thanks.”

“No prob.” Harry scrunched his face up. “Lem. No problem.”

Draco stuck his hands in the back pockets and rocked on his heels. “I can get out of your hair tonight if you need some alone time or something.” If this was what it was going to be like, he did not particularly want to be around Harry.

“Oh.” Harry furrowed his brows. “Um, well, I promised Kingsley that I’d watch over you and come in with you to the Ministry tomorrow, but after that you should be free to go.”

So that was why Harry was keeping him here even though he clearly wanted him nowhere nearby. Draco shook his head and stared down at the floor. “I didn’t realize. Well, I’ll just go to the couch and get out of your way.” He began to walk past Harry toward the couch, but Harry caught him by the wrist. Draco turned around, exasperated by this back-and-forth, but before he could yell at Harry to let him go and leave him alone, he caught Harry’s expression.

Harry’s eyes met his, and for the first time, Draco noticed how wide and terrified they were. “Do you hate me for not realizing?” Harry asked, his voice small. It was not the question Draco had been expecting.

“Hate you?” Draco bristled. “Don’t be ridiculous. I mean, you were a little thick through the whole process, sure. But I get why you wouldn’t consider…” Draco sighed. “I was pretty certain you hated me.”

Harry dropped his hand from Draco’s wrist and smiled. “Not at all. I just didn’t expect to unload my fucking life story onto a Malfoy, though.” He moved toward the couch and motioned for Draco to sit down next to him. “You can understand, right – how this is all…”

“Unsettling?” Draco suggested.

“Fucked up was what I was going to say, but that works too.” Harry brought his knees to his chest and rested his chin upon them. “When you tell a dog all these secrets, you kind of assume he’ll keep them.”

“I won’t expose them unless you force me to wear cuffed jeans again.” Draco could feel the tension seep from his body as Harry laughed.

“Doesn’t seem like your style, but you don’t look half-bad.”

“Don’t push it.” Draco shook his head. He met Harry’s eyes for a moment before glancing away and running a hand through his hair.

“The marks are starting to make sense,” Harry said. It took Draco a moment to realize that Harry was staring at the Dark Mark on his left forearm. He clamped his right hand over it and flushed.

“It’s powerful magic. No one knows how to remove it. I try to wear long sleeves whenever I can.” He coughed. “Sorry, it’s probably not what you want to be reminded of.”

Harry reached out and took Draco’s right hand in his own. Draco could feel just how sweaty Harry’s palms were and smiled despite himself. Harry removed Draco’s right hand from his left forearm and gave Draco a wistful smile. “It must be awful to be reminded of that every time you look down.”

“I’ve thought about just slicing it off before, but I’ve heard… he… installed some failsafe where it just grows back. Don’t know if it’s a myth or not, but it seemed so depressing that I didn’t want to try it out.”

Harry squeezed Draco’s hand before letting go. Draco had gotten so used to casual touches here and there when he was in dog form. So often, Harry would scratch his head or rest an arm against him, but he had expected that would all change as soon as Harry found out. Then again, perhaps the habit was just difficult to break for both of them. Draco closed his eyes and tried to remind himself that this was all temporary.

After a long silence, Draco spoke again. “So, what do you think is in store for me? Like five years of Azkaban?” He tried to phrase it as a joke, but the laugh caught in his throat and came out sounding choked. It didn’t do anything to help that Harry’s face fell immediately.

“I honestly don’t know. I report to the Head Auror, Matthews, and he’s…” Harry scratched at his arm and looked to the side, clearly trying to find a way to put it gently.

“I’m going to take it that he’s not my biggest fan.”

“Most people aren’t.” Harry refused to meet his eyes again. “It’s not even you specifically – former Death Eaters. And I can’t really blame them. Your people caused a lot of damage. Good people died because of what _you_ stood for.” Harry met his gaze, but this time there was little compassion in his look. It was hard and questioning.

“I never realized until I took the Mark what it meant.”

“But you were sixteen. People had already died. Cedric. Sirius.” Harry shook his head. “I know you’re not the person you were then, but I think back to the things you said and did while we were in Hogwarts, and I understand where Matthews is coming from.”

“If I could use a Time Turner and take back what I did –”

“But you can’t. You have to live with it.”

A cold sensation was slowly spread from Draco’s stomach across his chest, and he closed his eyes, trying to think of something to say, but nothing was coming to mind. “I’m sorry.” He bowed his head. “You’re right. There aren’t any excuses. I’m just sorry.”

Harry didn’t speak for so long that Draco started to wonder if Harry was just going to call it a night, even though it was barely evening. But after a minute, Harry cleared his throat. “I’m not going to let them send you to Azkaban if I can help it. I know you’re not the person you were at fifteen.”

“Why do you want to help me?”

Harry smiled at him and poked his arm. “Look at you. You’re like a self-pitying bowl of jelly.” He prodded him again, and Draco swatted his hand away.

“Hey!”

“Chin up, Draco. At least you’re not a ball of fluff anymore.”

“Excuse you. I was regal.”

“Yeah, sure.” Harry laughed and pulled out his phone. “I think it seems like a Chinese takeout kind of night. Does that work?”

“I will take any real food you want to give me. I will die if I have to have any more bacon bits and Weetabix.”

“Someone sounds ungrateful.” Harry grinned. “Give me a second.” He disappeared into the kitchen before coming back with a menu and tossing it Draco’s way. “Decide and then we’ll order.”

“What about you?” Draco asked, picking up the menu and glancing through it.

“It seems like a broccoli and beef kind of night for me.”

\- - -

The next morning happened in a rush. Ron came over with clean robes for Draco before he and Harry left, and then they were off. The whole dog situation trumped the wandless one, but now that he was safe and sound in human form, the wandlessness was beginning to both him. He had to hold onto Harry as they Apparated to the exterior.

And once inside, his day didn’t get any better. Draco was sure he spent hours sitting outside of offices as Harry went inside and talked with officials. As the day wore on, he began to resent Harry for not warning him that a book might have been handy.

Worse yet, plenty of people openly stared at him. Harry had warned him that his case had blown up. After all, with his father’s reputation, people had begun to wonder if there was a darker reason for his disappearance. The more people spoke in hushed whispers around him, the worse his mood was.

It was nearly evening by the time Harry finally brought him to Matthews’ office. Draco had assumed it would be business as usual and was about to seat himself outside the office when Harry shook his head and motioned for Draco to follow him.

“I wouldn’t worry. It should be relatively easy,” Harry said, but something in his tone told Draco that he didn’t even believe himself.

 The office was large, brightly lit, and filled with stacks of books on wizarding law and magic. Draco barely had time to glance around before his eyes settled on Matthews. From how Harry had described him, Draco had expected a stately older gentleman, but Matthews could have barely been a decade older than them. But his age did not make him any less intimidating. Matthews was well-built and muscled, and his eyes were such a dark shade of brown that in worse lighting, they might have appeared black. Judging by the sternness of his expression, Draco decided he better set his focus to getting through today.

Once they all seated, Matthews folded his hands on his desk and leaned forward. “Potter tells me that you have been living with him for most of the summer.” Although he tried to keep his voice light, there was an unsettling edge that warned Draco to tread lightly.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“He also tells me that it was in Animagus form.”

“Yes, sir.” Draco’s palms were already beginning to sweat. This was already more direct than he had expected.

“I found that fascinating because I didn’t remember any Malfoy listed in the registry. But I make mistakes. I’m only human. So I looked up, and you know what I saw?” Draco wasn’t sure if he was supposed to answer. His mouth felt dry, and he coughed, but Matthews was already moving on, answering his own question. “There was a Maguire, Elladora, followed immediately by a Malone, Buckley. But nowhere in there was a Malfoy.”

“No, sir.” Draco’s gaze fell down to his lap, but he still felt Matthews’s eyes on him.

“Now, I’m sure you’ve heard that all witches and wizards need to register before. Or had you not been informed?”

“I was aware,” Draco mumbled.

“Then perhaps you can illuminate me why you didn’t let anyone know.”

Draco felt the same cold sensation he had felt yesterday that started in his stomach and moved outwards. He met Matthews’s eyes yet again. “I needed some privacy.”

“I see.” Matthews looked over at Harry.

“Your father was one of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s closest allies. I heard your house served as his headquarters during his final year.”

“Sir –” Harry interrupted, but Matthews lifted his hand.

“Potter, you have pled his case. I want to hear what he has to say. We are entitled to that, after all.” Draco watched as Harry shrunk in his seat.

Draco took a deep breath in and out and tried his best to keep his voice steady. “It was,” Draco said. “And my father was as well. I’m not going to stand up for what my father did – or what I did – but I don’t see what that has to do with this.”

“Your father has been given a life sentence in Azkaban if I’m not mistaken.” Draco bit his tongue to stop himself from saying anything he regretted in response. After all, most of the wizarding world knew where his father was. It had made the front page of The Daily Prophet.

“He was.”

“Both you and your mother were spared from any real punishment.”

“Comparatively, sure.” Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Harry shift uncomfortably in his chair.

“Comparatively?” Matthews sounded like he was going to press the issue but changed his mind. “Well, I would hate for your mother to get in trouble for your missteps.” Draco felt anger flare up inside of him, and he narrowed his eyes.

“Respectfully, I don’t think she has anything to do with this, so I don’t see how you can hold her responsible.”

Matthews lifted a hand up and covered his mouth, and even though his eyes held no warmth, Draco could tell he was smiling. “We’ll see.” Matthews turned to look at Harry. “I think I don’t need any more information.”

“That’s it?” Draco asked. “You don’t want to ask me about Theo or what happened or –”

“ _Draco_.” Harry’s voice was stern and warned him that he should keep his mouth shut. It was difficult to cut himself off. He took a deep breath and tried to focus his attention elsewhere, but it was difficult when all he could hear was the ringing condescension on Matthews’s voice and the look of contempt on his face.

“Harry will let you know when we’ve arranged a date for your trial. There will be Aurors sent to watch you to make sure you don’t try to sneak off again. In the meantime, I suggest you learn to control your temper. It could be the determining factor between two years and five.” He waved his hands, and the doors to his office flung open.

Draco’s head pounded as he walked out of the office and then the Ministry. As Harry tried to talk to him, Draco drifted in and out of focus, Matthews’s words repeating over and over in his mind. It sounded as if they had already decided on Azkaban, and at this point it was only a matter of how much time.

“Draco!” Harry snapped his finger in front of Draco’s face, and Draco turned to face him.

“Sorry, I’m just – That was a lot.”

“I know.” The look of worry on Harry’s face did nothing to quell his fears. “I thought you might be a little rattled up after all of this, but that’s why I wanted to take you to one last place. Just hold on.” Draco reached out, and before he could ask where it was, Harry had Apparated, and the breath felt as if it had been knocked out of him.

As soon as they had settled and the world stopped spinning, he looked up and saw his mother’s house, and in the doorframe – his mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The spell translates roughly to: "Return to yourself. Make whole once more. Let the truth reveal itself."


	7. Chapter Six

Draco froze the moment he saw his mother. His heart caught in his throat, and he stared straight ahead. Only when his mother stepped forward and covered her mouth, tears welling in her eyes did he feel as if he could push forward and move. They walked toward each other until they met, and he leaned forward as she wrapped his arms around him. “Draco, my Draco, I knew something horrible had happened, but I thought –”

He didn’t have to let his mother know that he wouldn’t leave her – not after her sister and Draco’s father. He wasn’t sure how long he leaned against her, shaking as her fingers dragged through his hair, and she mumbled words of relief. When he pulled back, he was almost surprised to see Harry standing there, looking as if he regretted interrupting the moment.

“Come in,” Narcissa said and then turned to Harry. “Both of you, come in.”

They stepped inside the house, and Harry kept one step behind them. “How have you been?” Draco asked.

Although Narcissa’s chin tilted upwards, the hardened look in her eyes told Draco what he needed to know – more so than her words. “It’s been busy. A few people haven’t quite believed that I didn’t know where you were. But never mind, I’m sure now that they know the truth, they will stop bothering me.”

Draco turned and glared at Harry. “How badly did your people press her for answers?” he asked. Harry withered under his gaze, but Narcissa spoke before he could.

“Mr. Potter was one of the few who tried to keep the others in check. You’d do better turning your anger other places.” She brought them into the sitting room and motioned to the seats. “Please, sit down. I’ll go fetch some tea.” By the time they had settled, the sound of Narcissa’s heels clicking against the tiled floor had disappeared.

“Your mother has been shaken by this whole event. Long before we had come close to piecing anything together, she kept insisting that something had happened to you.” He closed his eyes and sighed. After taking off his glasses and setting them down on the table, he squeezed the bridge of his nose. “That was a mess at the Ministry. Everyone feels like they have something to prove because this case has been a train wreck. This case went public a while ago. Someone leaked it to the Daily Prophet. It didn’t even make the front page, but anyway, I think everyone is really feeling like eyes are on them.”

“I never saw it in the news,” Draco said. “I tried to look at the newspapers most days, but it was hard to turn the page.” His cheeks heated up and turned pink.

“I’m sorry I never realized.”

“It’s not your fault. Really, it if it were under other circumstances, I’d even say it was amusing.”

“Can I be honest about something?” Harry put his glasses right on and adjusted them up the bridge of his nose.

“I hope you would be.”

“After speaking to everyone at the Ministry, I’m a little worried about–” But Harry stop speaking suddenly as they heard click of her heels again. Draco’s stomach knotted tightly, but he pushed past it and forced a smile on his face for his mother’s sake. She stepped in carrying a tray with three cups, lemon, sugar, and cream all held in small porcelain containers.

“Sound carries easily in my home,” she said as she set them down. “I deserve to know how my son stands. And I don’t need to be coddled.” She distributed the tea as Harry stared at her, looking as if he wished he could disappear into the ground.

“I didn’t realize you could hear.”

“I’ve had my husband taken away from me once before and now permanently. I can handle myself, and I am sure Draco doesn’t want to have to wait until you two are alone to hear what you think.” She straightened her back and looked at Harry.

Harry straightened his posture as well and ran a hand through his hair, trying and failing to smooth it down. “As I was saying to Draco, I think many of the Aurors believe they have something to prove. None of us were too successful on this case, and with the public being aware – I think they believe they need to be harsher than they need to be.”

“But when Matthews said that my mother could be punished for my mistakes?” Draco trailed off and avoided making eye contact with his mother. Nonetheless, he saw her shift slightly out of the corner of his eyes.

“That’s not possible,” Harry said. He reached out and slowly placed his hand on top of Narcissa’s as if to give her plenty of time to pull away if she did not want to be touched. However, Narcissa sat still, and Draco thought he almost saw her lips turn up in a near-condescending amusement. “I promise, I won’t let him. Legally, there’s nothing he can do, and if he tries, I will get in touch with the Minister.”

“As I said, I can handle myself,” Narcissa said. “But what of Theo? What will his punishment be?”

Harry flushed and pulled his hand away from hers, and Draco felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. “He’s not getting much of one, is he?” Draco whispered.

“Because you were not registered, many of the Aurors feel as if he shouldn’t be punished for placing the spell on you. They mostly see his fault as something along the lines of obstruction of justice.” Harry kept his gaze toward the table as he reached toward the lemon and sugar bowls.

“What’s his punishment?” Draco asked, echoing his mother.

“He has been issued a fine of two thousand Galleons. I tried to fight it, but I wanted to save my energy for your case. Many of the Aurors feel as if I have been too lenient towards you, and if I pushed with him as well.”

The room fell quiet enough that when Harry took a sip and set his cup down, the clink of it against the saucer made them all stare at it. Eventually, however, Narcissa spoke. “I appreciate that you’re looking out for my son.”

“Of course. I don’t exactly have a spotless record when it comes to judging people’s character, but I don’t think I’m wrong when I say that Draco’s worth the fight.” Harry looked over at Draco. When their eyes met, Draco’s face warmed up, and he looked away, chewing at the inside right corner of his lip and smiling, but the smile did not last long.

“So what can Draco expect?” Narcissa asked.

“There will be a trial, likely in two or three weeks, although it could be sooner. They seem anxious to have it resolved. I will help prepare you as much as I can, but I’m still trying to see who I can get on my side. Even the people who don’t agree necessarily are intimidated by Matthews, but Hermione and Ron are going to help too.” Harry took another sip, and Narcissa shook her head.

“That’s all well and good, but you know what’s not what I mean. I want to know whether I have to fear losing my son to Azkaban as well.”

Both he and Harry froze, and although Narcissa continued to stare at Harry, Draco was certain she was watching him as well. He did his best to maintain dignity despite the chill that went through him.

“I don’t know,” Harry said after a long pause. “I want to say that you don’t have to worry.” Harry reached out and set his hand now on top of Draco’s. He gave it a light squeeze, and Draco squeezed back.

“I’ve never met someone who sucked up guilt like a sponge more than you,” Draco said.

“I feel like I should be insulted.”

“Don’t be.” Draco squeezed his hand one more time and then let go, grabbing onto the sugar and cream. Amid the conversation, he had forgotten his tea. It was no longer steaming, but he dropped a sugar cube in it nonetheless and stirred.

The conversation veered off into other, lighter topics, including Narcissa tutting that Draco had never shown her his dog form. “I don’t think now is exactly the time to be showing it off,” Draco said. “After this is all over, mother.”

By the time they were leaving, the sun had set, and Draco was hungry and exhausted. He hugged his mother goodbye and was surprised when she leaned in to press a kiss to Harry’s cheek as she shook his hand. She whispered something to Harry that Draco assumed had to do with him, and Harry nodded. He made a note to ask Harry about it when they got back to Harry’s place. They stepped down the path until they reached just outside Narcissa’s property, and Harry turned to face Draco.

“Hold on tight,” he said and wrapped his arm snugly around Draco’s waist. Before Draco could prepare, he felt the sensation of being squeezed through a thin tube, and closed his eyes, easing into it as he leaned against Harry’s shoulder. The discomfort passed after a moment, and he opened his eyes to see a man and a woman standing outside of Harry’s apartment dressed in robes.

“Freya, Cadmus.” Harry let go of him and stepped forward. He walked up to them and dropped his voice to a whisper, but being only a meter away, Draco could still hear him. “What are you doing here? I told Matthews that I would take care of Draco until his trial.”

Freya responded, and she did not bother whispering. “Potter, Matthews feels you’re too close to this case to watch over Draco. If it came to a tough call, he doesn’t think you could make it.”

“This is absolutely ridiculous. Draco can stay with me tonight, and I’ll go talk to Matthews tomorrow.”

Cadmus shook his head. “Sorry, man. I wish I could tell you that’s fine, but Matthews was pretty straight-forward and strict about what he wanted.” He glanced around Harry toward Draco. “You’re coming with us. Or I guess technically we’re coming with you. But the point is that you’re not staying here.”

Draco’s mouth dried up, and he looked over at Harry. “Can I at least come with him?” Harry asked.

“Matthews said no to that specifically too,” Freya said. Unlike Cadmus, she seemed to have no misgivings about what shew as doing.

“Let me talk with Draco.”

“Fine, but make it snappy because we need to take Malfoy over to his apartment and explain a few things still.”

Harry pushed past Freya, bumping their shoulders together, and stepped back down to Draco. As he placed his hands on Draco’s shoulders and squeezed, Harry sighed loudly. “I’ll be around tomorrow after work. I just need to sort this out with Matthews, but they’re being ridiculous.” He smiled in a way that Draco presumed was meant to be comforting, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I guess it’ll be nice to see my apartment,” Draco said, feeling hollow.

“Yeah, it should be.” Harry paused and then added, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, really.” Draco felt Freya and Cadmus staring and shook Harry’s hands off. “It’ll probably be nice to have your flat back to yourself.”

“Maybe. I kind of got used to the company, even if you were a dog for most of it.”

“Wild idea – maybe just get a dog.”

“You trying to get yourself replaced?” Harry smiled properly for the first time and laughed. A lull fell between them, and Harry rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand and stuck out his right.

“Handshake, really?”

“Tell me if they give you any shit,” Harry whispered low enough that no one else could hear them. They shook hands, and Draco stepped to the side, letting Freya and Cadmus come down the steps of his building and toward them.

“All right. We gotta go,” Cadmus said, tossing Harry an apologetic work. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Harry. Have a good night.”

“You too.” He nodded at him, and his look turned cold when he faced Freya. “You too, Freya.”

Freya didn’t respond. She just grabbed onto Draco, and they were Apparating again. “You could at least warn me,” he muttered as Freya let go and began walking toward his apartment.

“Yes, well, I thought you were old enough to handle yourself.” There was another loud crack as Cadmus appeared beside him.

“Your apartment may be a little different than when you last saw it. We tried to put everything back in order, but we sifted through most of it when we were trying to find you.” Cadmus laughed uncomfortably.

“Guess you were looking in the wrong places.” Kind or not, Cadmus was sent by Matthews to make his night more difficult. Draco stepped forward and followed Freya into the building, up a flight of stairs, and into his flat. Freya sighed as she turned the lights on, and Draco’s head began to spin.

It didn’t even smell like home anymore. It smelled stale and lifeless. If Cadmus hadn’t told him, he wouldn’t have noticed that there were a few books placed on the wrong shelves in his living room or that some papers from St. Mungo’s had clearly been shifted from one side of the table to the other. Draco’s head spun as he looked around, trying to reconcile the simultaneous familiarity and strangeness that overcame him when he looked around.

“Get settled. We need to let you know about a few things and check back in with Matthews. Cadmus, can you send him an owl letting him know that we’ll be later than he expected but that we brought Malfoy here?” She didn’t wait for him to answer, and he didn’t bother answering. Cadmus disappeared down the hallway – Draco presumed toward his room or the guest room depending on where they were keeping their owl.

“Let me guess. I’m not allowed to run away,” Draco said, crossing his living room and seating himself on his leather couch. It sunk

“Potter didn’t tell me you were so funny,” she deadpanned. “Look, we got your wand back from Nott. We searched his placed and found it, but if you try anything funny, we’re going to know. Until your trial, we put some spells in place to warn us if anyone but us Apparates here. It’ll notify us if anyone Floos or if a Portkey is activated or basically if you try to make a run for it.”

“Surprisingly, wasn’t planning on it. If I wanted to run, I wouldn’t have spent ages living with a high-ranking Auror,” Draco shot back.

“Orders are orders.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re no fun?” Draco asked.

“Just keep running your mouth, Malfoy.” Freya pulled his wand out of her robe pocket. “We’re also going to be keeping tabs on you and checking in once a day, likely around noon.” She tapped the wand against her open palm, and sparks flew out of the end of it. “I personally put a spell on this thing that activates if you leave London.”

“What does it do?”

Freya smirked and handed over the wand. Draco stared uncertainly at it before taking it, knowing he had no other choice. But the cold wooden handle felt oddly comforting after being separated from it for so long. “Any questions, or can we leave?”

“You said you would be checking in at noon. Has my shift at work been moved?”

The smug look on Freya’s face made Draco’s stomach plummet. “You’re not working until after the trial. And I wouldn’t hold your breath that it’ll be happening then either. Generally, we would prefer if you gave us a heads up if you’re planning on leaving or, better yet, that you just stayed here and didn’t leave.”

There was a commotion from the hallway, and Cadmus stepped into the living room. “I sent Matthews the letter,” he said. “Is everything okay here?” Despite Draco’s best ability to conceal his shock, he knew he must have done a poor job hiding it because Cadmus’s frown dripped with pity. Draco bristled and tried his best to recover.

“Fine. Then that’s all I need to know.”

“Excellent. If you have any questions, feel free to send an owl. Yours has been temporarily confiscated, but you have a Ministry-issued one. Her name is Ariel, and all her letters will go through the Auror’s Office,” Freya said.

“Or when I check in tomorrow if something else comes up, you can feel free to let me know,” Cadmus said. Draco felt a small surge of relief that he would only have to deal with Cadmus. As unnerving as his pity was, Draco still preferred it to outright condescension.

“Tomorrow at noon,” Draco said, and Cadmus nodded.

“Then we’ll be on our way. We have a long night ahead.” Judging by her tone, she blamed Draco for it, but Draco bit his tongue and said nothing. He stood up and led them to the door. He waited until they had left before stepping over to the couch and collapsing, holding his head in his hands and trying to steady their shaking.

\- - -

Just as he’d promised, Harry was over as soon as he was out of work. For a moment, Draco forgot and froze, terrified that he had done something to cause Cadmus to check in on him. When he opened the door and saw Harry, it took an active effort to not collapse forward against him just out of relief.

“How was Cadmus?” Harry asked as soon as he had stepped inside. “How are you?”

“Cadmus was fine.” He had knocked sheepishly at Draco’s door a few minutes after noon and had done everything but apologize for being there. “And I’ll be –” Draco felt his throat close up a little but pushed past it. “I’ll be fine too.”

“Cadmus is a good person. I know he doesn’t think what Matthews is doing is right.” He shook his head and put his hands in his pockets, standing awkwardly in the middle of the foyer. “I mean, he shouldn’t. It isn’t right.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it. How are you?” Draco asked. He motioned Harry towards his living room and seated himself on the couch. Harry sat down next to him, and when they turned to face each other, their knees bumped.

“I had a long talk with Matthews. You can actually stay with me if you’d like.” Harry glanced just past Draco, refusing to make eye contact. “No pressure, though.”

The desire to say yes flooded Draco, but he found himself shaking his head. The last thing he wanted to do was to burden Harry more than he already had. It already seemed like Harry was putting everything on the line for him at work. The only reason he was even offering had to be something akin to pity, and if there was something Draco despised, it was pity. Between him and Cadmus, he was beginning to feel like no one on his side outside of his mother would be able to look at him like a normal, functioning adult. “I’m fine,” Draco said.

Clearly, this was not the answer Harry had expected. He bit his lip and shifted, moving himself away from Draco and separating their knees so that there was proper space between them. “I don’t mind.”

“I said I’m fine.” Draco shifted himself as well and looked straight ahead, focusing on his bookshelf rather than look at Harry’s face. His stomach knotted as he pushed aside the dull ache in his chest. “It’s actually been really nice finally being at home, you know.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure…” Harry said. He chewed on his lower lip for a moment longer before pushing away his worry and forcing a smile. “Have you had a chance to relax today, at least?”

“Yeah, it’s been great. I’m finally going to get a chance to read again. You had a ghastly book collection. I don’t know how Granger’s friends with you.” His tone sounded far from convincing even to himself, but Harry didn’t say anything else for the rest of the night. Harry even avoided the general topic of the trial in favor for conversations on Quidditch and favorite drinks.

By the time Harry mentions needing to leave, Draco realizes that their knees have been pressed together again for quite some time. “I can come in the morning before work,” Harry says. “I mean, you’ve been freeloading off of my meals. The least you can do as thanks is cook something for me.”

“You’re so funny, calling those meals.”

“Hey!” Harry smacks Draco’s arm and grins. “Listen, I thought I was feeding a dog, not a human.”

“I had a dream last night that I married that Chinese food we ate two days ago,” Draco said.

“Harsh.” Harry smiled and rested a hand on the couch, his fingertips grazing over Draco’s hand before settling just beside it. “Can I come tomorrow morning?”

“Only because someone clearly needs to put you in your place when it comes to cooking.” He laughed, but his focus wasn’t on the conversation. All Draco could think about was that if he moved his hand a little more to the front of the couch, he would be able to rest his hand on top of Harry’s.

\- - -

Harry began coming regularly both before work and after, and Draco’s mother came most days in between, leaving him little time by himself. Harry conceded that Draco’s cooking was leagues better than his own after the first full breakfast that Draco cooked the first morning. “Bedder dan Hogwa’,” he said through a mouth full of sausage.

Draco appreciated it. As skeptical as he initially was of it, after two days’ worth of visits, he realized that Harry did not seem to be doing this out of some strange sense of obligation. Both nights, they fell deep into conversation – partly about Draco’s upcoming case but mostly about random topics – until Harry would groggily cast _Tempus_ and reveal it was well past midnight.

What was more interesting to Draco was the fact that they were being notably – well, there was really no other word for it – affectionate. He supposed it was a side effect from being a dog for so long around Harry. It had become second-nature when Harry would talk to him then for him to just rest his head against him and let Harry scratch behind his ear. After a certain point, it seemed pointless to avoid it, even if Draco had known it would cause problems after he transformed back.

But he wouldn’t necessarily call them problems, per se. While they were at Hogwarts, Pansy had tried to push her affection onto him for a little while, but outside of that, he had never been the type of person to be physical with anyone. This was new, but it wasn’t unwelcome, and it didn’t seem to be to Harry as well. Right before Harry would leave, as he’d be half-asleep, he would lean his head against Draco’s shoulder and let out a soft whine as he sunk deeper into the couch. More often than not, there was far more room on the other side of them than there was between them, where their legs would wind up pressed against each other at some point.

Again, Draco presumed it was some odd leftover side effect from the fact that they had known each other so differently for months.

The only time they maintained their distance was around Ron and Hermione. On the third day, Harry brought them over after work. They came back again the next day and again two days after that early one afternoon on the weekend. Ron brought all the ingredients to make fresh pizza, and Hermione brought a stack of books on wizarding law.

“If I find out that the two of you blew up my kitchen…” Draco warned, pointing a finger in Harry and Ron’s directions as they disappeared into the kitchen.

Hermione was meticulous with her descriptions of how the trial would go and even included a non-too-brief history lesson of the Wizengamot.

“If you’re so knowledgeable, why aren’t you representing me?” Draco asked, slumped over the dining room table.

“Because Harry has been doing his research and has more sway. If you choose, you may call me as a witness. I recommend it. I know for a fact that they’re going to use your family history against you, and while I hate to be so crude about it, it will look good having someone with no wizarding blood to defend you.”

Draco swallowed thickly, recalling their Hogwarts years. “I’m sorry.”

“Yes, well, it is what it is.”

“I’m still sorry.” The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that was there so often returned twofold. He stared down at the table in front of him and followed the grain of the wood with his finger. “It was pretty terrible.”

“I’m not going to lie and say it wasn’t.” She looked like she would rather avoid this conversation, so Draco switched gears back to Harry.

“It must be annoying having to do whatever Harry deems morally right – his charity case of the week. I’m sure it happens all the time where you and Weasley feel like you need a break,” Draco half-joked.

“I think we’re at the point where you can call me Hermione.”

“I can try, but no promises.”

“And anyway, I don’t think I agree with you.” The twinkle in her eye warned Draco that she thought more than she was willing to say. “You know, when he was younger, Harry was often pushed or pulled in a certain direction. But since then – well, what I’m trying to say is that you’re not a charity case. I think Harry would be offended to hear that you think that of him.”

Draco raised his hands defensively as he tried to backtrack. “I don’t think he’s only doing this because he feels like he has to or because I’m part of some cause.” He tripped over his words, not sure if he could fully believe them himself.

“If Harry didn’t see something in you that was worth defending, he wouldn’t be doing this. And if he’s asked us to put as much as we have on the line, it’s much more than just something small.” She gazed at Draco, and he suddenly felt exposed – as if Hermione could see right through him. However, after a moment, she sighed and shrugged her shoulders, moving her attention down away from him. “I, for one, trust his judgment.”

“I spent so long at Hogwarts wondering why you weren’t in Ravenclaw when you clearly prized your wits so much,” Draco said, leaning back.

“Is that your way of calling me a know-it-all?”

“That feels like a trick question, so I’m not going to answer it. But I see now that you value loyalty more than anything else.”

“Mm, I suppose that is a Gryffindor thing, isn’t it?” Her attention moved past Draco toward the hallway as there was a commotion and Ron and Harry stepped back, each with a pizza in hand.

The pizzas were delicious – much to Draco’s surprise. But as soon as they had all finished eating and cleared the table, Harry announced that he had to leave. Draco wanted to protest. It was a little after 17:00. But he knew he shouldn’t push his luck. Harry probably wanted to catch up on his sleep, and for all Draco knew, he had to go in early for work tomorrow.

He hugged Harry and Hermione goodbye and settled for a stiff but nonetheless warm handshake with Ron, and they all left.

It was his first time being alone in the apartment during the evening. He watched on his balcony as the sun set, hugging his knees to his chest. Even living at Harry’s, he had gotten used to the rhythm of the day and the company they kept. It wasn’t always much, but he had learned to enjoy evenings together. Especially now that they could talk, he looked forward to their nights together, curled up on the couch and talking about any nonsense that popped into their heads. After a few hours, Draco found that he was feeling restless. He had tried to read, but it was impossible to focus.

“Fuck it.” Draco went to his bedroom and scrawled out a quick letter to send to Cadmus:

_Cadmus,_   
_I’m taking Harry up on his offer to stay at his place. Will be back before noon._   
_Draco._

He handed the letter to Ariel, who looked thrilled to be given the opportunity to leave Draco’s flat beyond the time Draco gave her at night. She hooted quietly and stood still as Draco attached the letter. He felt unsure if he should bring anything. After all, Harry had offered, and he had turned him down. Likely, he wasn’t expecting a visit. The longer it took him, the more anxious he got that he was interrupting a night with friends or that Harry wouldn’t be home. But after he brushed his teeth and washed his face, he took his toothbrush and a change of clothes for the next day and left.

He Apparated right outside of the door and knocked before he could change his mind and turn away. Time stretched out as he waited for someone to answer the door, and after what he was sure was half a minute, he began to doubt that Harry was even in his apartment. But the door swung open.

“Hey Harry, it’s some tall blond guy!” The man standing in front of him was none other than the one he’d seen stumble into Harry’s apartment just a few weeks before. The one he’d seen make out with Harry and stay over the night. Draco flushed. “He should be over in just a second. What’s your name?”

“Oh, wrong apartment,” Draco muttered, clenching his jaw and turned around.

“You’re not looking for Harry? Messy hair and glasses?” the guy called after him.

But Draco didn’t turn around. He hunched his shoulders and ran outside before Apparating back home. He didn’t quite understand what was so upsetting about it. Harry had a right to have a life. In fact, Draco mostly felt embarrassed. He had assumed if anyone were to be there, it would have been Ron or Hermione, but Harry had a whole life that Draco didn’t know about, so it seemed like an awfully stupid conclusion to make.

Draco ran to his bedroom and got undressed down to his boxers. It seemed like the best option was to call it a night, but he knew that if he laid down, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Instead, he went to his living room and pointed his wand at the fireplace. “Incendio.” He curled up by the fire and tried to leaf through one of the books Hermione had left him on the trials and tribulations of the Wizengamot, but almost every page, he found himself spacing out.

Almost an hour had passed, and Draco had finally managed to calm himself down enough when he heard a knock at his door. The first thought that popped in his mind was that it was Cadmus, somehow knowing that he had Apparated back and coming to check in on what happened. Although he knew he should get dressed again, he didn’t feel quite like it and decided that Cadmus could suffer the discomfort if he was willing to barge in this late at night.

But it was not Cadmus. It was Harry.

Draco froze as the embarrassment he had managed to push back came over him like a wave. He briefly met Harry’s gaze before looking away. “Can I come in?” Harry asked, and Draco stepped to the side, motioning toward his apartment. Harry stepped in and took off his boots.

“If you’re coming about earlier, that was my fault. I never should have assumed I could just pop on over.” Draco rubbed the back of his neck and furrowed his brow, still staring down as he followed Harry to his living room.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t know why you’re acting so weird,” Harry said. He sat down on the couch facing Draco with his legs cross in front of him on the couch as well. “If you’d asked, I could have cancelled plans or moved them around.”

“I mean, you spend all your time here anyway. It was silly. I should have owled or something,” Draco said. “Asked at the very least before I barged in and ruined your date.” He sat down as well but continued to face forward, wishing Harry would stop giving him such wide-eyed looks.

“My date?”

“With the guy you hooked up with. It’s the same one, isn’t it?”

Draco could tell that Harry had completely forgotten that Draco had been around for that. “Of course you were,” he mumbled under his breath. His look of confusion quickly faded to something kinder. “It wasn’t a date. I was just hanging out with him.”

“Oh, I assumed since you two had…” Draco flushed, unsure if he should finish the sentence.

“You know you’re old enough to say the word sex, Draco.”

“Oh, ha ha. I just mean since it’s probably weird for you that I saw that. I mean, you don’t strike me as a voyeur.”

“Well, how would you know?” Draco looked over at Harry just in time to see him smirk and raise an eyebrow. But before he could harp on it, Harry had switched back to talking about the guy. “We’re just trying to be friends. We tried to go on a date, but it just didn’t feel right, and besides, Harry’s a Muggle, which just makes things more complicated.”

“His name’s also Harry?” Draco asked, and Harry nodded. “Well, it’s really for the best you two didn’t work out. That sounds like it would be confusing.”

Harry laughed. “You’re probably right.” Harry slid one foot down the couch and nudged Draco’s leg with it.

“Don’t be gross, Potter. I’ve told you I hate feet.” Draco shuddered and pulled his leg away.

“Oof, Potter. That serious, huh?”

“You don’t know even know the half of it.”

The conversation came to a small lull, and after a moment where they shared an awkward smile, Harry broke the silence. “So what about you? You know practically everything about my love life. I think it’s only fair that I find out about yours.”

“There’s not much to tell,” Draco said. “After the war, I think people heard the name Malfoy and ran the other way.” He shrugged, trying to brush it off as more casual than it was.

“I heard a rumor about you and Astoria Greengrass,” Harry said.

“Yeah, that’s not a thing. My mom tried to set us up before she knew that I was gay.”

“Oh.” Harry looked surprised. “I thought you dated Pansy at Hogwarts.”

“No, though she definitely tried to make that a thing for a while.” When he glanced over at Harry, he saw Harry still seemed to be processing the information. It seemed odd considering everything he knew about him. “Why are you acting so weird?”

“I am? I’m sorry. I just – I guess I never considered it.”

“It’d be weird if you regularly thought to my sexuality.”

“I guess. I don’t know. I just assumed you were weird about Harry because he was a guy. And considering everything I’ve told you… I thought given the opportunity, you’d go running to Rita Skeeter and give her the inside scoop.” When Draco glared, the offense clearly written on his face, Harry turned red. “Not literally. I just thought it’d be this weird unspoken thing.”

“I’ll make sure to hang up my rainbow flag to give you some heads up next time,” Draco said, rolling his eyes. Harry wasn’t generally flustered around him. This was new, watching him squirm more with each turn of the conversation.

“I’m sorry. It was shitty to assume you’d be weird about it.”

“I’m too busy being gay to be homophobic.”

“I mean, technically, you can be both.”

“Look at you. The little radical.” When Harry looked confused, he waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Really.” Draco cleared his throat and decided to change topics. “I never knew you and Weasley had it in you to make a pizza that good.”

Like usual, they fell into a steady rhythm, and Harry updated him on the newest _Game of Thrones_ episode that he had missed, insisting that he was going to buy Draco a TV and a laptop just so that he could stay up to date. They avoided talking about the impending trial, which Draco was grateful for. It was all anyone else wanted to talk with him about – whether to prep him or voice their concern. But between them it was almost an unspoken rule not to mention it after a certain point when their conversations had veered far off topic.

At some point, Harry scooted closer, and their conversation dwindled as Harry rested his head against Draco’s shoulder and placed a hand against his thigh. The fire was barely lit, and Draco was certain it was later than Harry usually stayed, but he didn’t mind. Neither of them said anything as they listened to the crackling of the flames, and at some point, Draco reached up, running his fingers through Harry’s hair, doing his best to avoid knots and tangles.

“What time is it?” Harry finally asked.

Draco fished his wand out of his pockets. “Tempus.” Harry groaned as he saw the time.

“It’s almost 3:45. I hate to be that person, but can I crash on your couch? You can feel free to say no if you’re not comfortable.”

“No, that’s fine. You’re always welcome to stay here. I mean, I technically crashed with you for months.”

“Yeah, seriously. Okay, I take my question back. I’m _going_ to crash.” Harry laughed as he put on a fake authoritative voice.

Before he could stop himself, Draco added, “You can sleep in the bed if you like.” There was a long pause. “You don’t have to. I think I just got used to sleeping with someone else there, but I understand if that makes you feel weird or –”

“No, that actually sounds really nice. I know what you mean. It’s been weird sleeping alone.” He smiled and stood up, stretching. “I think if I was going to be uncomfortable, that would have happened when I came in and you were in your boxers and just decided not to change.”

Draco had forgotten he was underdressed. His cheeks turned pink as he tried to come up with some sort of excuse, but none was coming to mind. “I forgot,” he said instead.

“I sure walked around in my boxers enough around you before I knew. Debated Obliviating those memories out of your mind, but…” He shook his head. “Ah well. Lead the way.” They stumbled their way over to the bedroom, and Draco let Harry settle in as he went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face again.

“There should be new toothbrushes under the sink if you want to use one,” Draco said, laying down. He was almost asleep by the time Harry came back from the bathroom. The moment he closed his eyes, he had begun to sink out of consciousness, but he did his best to hold off.

The bed shifted under Harry’s weight as he got on it. He took a moment to adjust the pillows and lay down before Draco felt the warmth of Harry’s skin against his back. It had been quite a while since he’d had this. Even with Harry before, the sensation had been different when he’d been trapped in his Animagus form. There was something about being close, skin pressed together and warm that felt more comforting than he could put into words.

When Harry’s nose pressed into the back of his neck and took a deep breath, Draco felt himself relax against him. “Is this fine, or do you want to roll over?” His breath tickled the back of Draco’s neck.

“Are you asking me to spoon you?” he said, joking and yet filled with a strange, new anticipation. He thought Harry must have found it less amusing when he was met with silence, but the moment he opened his mouth to respond, Harry spoke.

“Maybe.”

“Merlin, I don’t know how you managed to save the world twice if this is how you are.” Draco rolled over, as did Harry, and he wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and pulled himself close. Harry sighed contently, and they did their best to adjust. At some point just before sleep, the tangled their legs together, and as Draco drifted off, for the first time in a while, his future didn’t cross his mind. He was rooted firmly in the present.


	8. Chapter Seven

Draco groaned and rolled over, digging his face against the pillows in an attempt to drown out the tapping sound at his window, but it didn’t want to stop. He could still remember faint traces of a dream – the smell of cigarettes and burnt toast. But the more he tried to grasp onto it, the fewer details he remembered until nothing was left but an overwhelming feeling of warmth and the sensation of arms around him.

“Merlin, Draco, aren’t you going to get that?” Harry asked, his voice muffled.

Draco’s eyes shot open, suddenly more awake. He had forgotten that Harry had fallen asleep at his apartment and in his bed. “Sorry.” Draco cleared his throat and slid out of bed, immediately seeing the source of the noise.

A tawny owl perched on his windowsill repeatedly tapped the glass with its beak. If her expression was anything to go by, she was displeased at having to wait. Draco opened the window, and she immediately flew in, landing on the perch in his room and ruffling her feathers. She let out a quiet, displeased hoot and stuck out her foot.

Draco removed the letter from it.

_Dear Mr. Malfoy_

_Your trial has been scheduled. Please arrive to Courtroom Ten today promptly at 13:00._

_Sincerely,  
Freya Malvoia Tyndall_

Draco stared blankly at the paper. Even by Hermione’s most conservative guesses, they were supposed to have another few days before a trial would be scheduled. His palms began to sweat, and he dropped the letter on the desk. He ran back across the room, grabbing his wand off of his bedside table. “Tempus.”

7:52.

“What is it?” Harry asked, and Draco jumped. He looked up to see Harry squinting at him, his hair somehow messier than usual.

“They scheduled the trial for today.”

Harry pulled himself up immediately. “That’s not possible.”

“Yeah, well –” Draco walked backed over and grabbed the letter, not caring as it scrunched up in the palm of his hand. He walked over to Harry and dropped it on his lap. “You better believe it.”

Harry scanned over the letter three times, each time, the crease between his eyebrows becoming more pronounced. The deeper it got, the more Draco’s stomach sunk. “This shouldn’t be possible. They should give you at least a twenty-four-hour warning.” Draco swore he saw Harry mouth the word ‘bastards,’ but before he could ask, Harry was standing up and striding across the room with purpose. “You need to come with me to work.”

“They’re going to come check in on me at noon.”

“I’ll let them know that you’re going to be with me.” Harry grabbed his jeans and jacket and began to put them on. “They can’t object. There’s no place you’re less likely to get up to mischief than the Ministry. Do you have any dress robes?”

“Obviously.”

“Wonderful. I’m going to go back to my flat to get ready, but I’ll come pick you up as soon as I’m done. You should do the same.”

“You can get ready here,” Draco said, but Harry shook his head as he crossed the room.

“I’ll be back soon.” Before Draco could protest any more, Harry stepped out of the room. Draco waited until he heard the front door slam shut behind Harry before collapsing onto the bed, his head in his hands.

“Well, fuck me.” Draco swallowed thickly. His heart was in his throat, and his palms felt sweaty against his face. He dropped his arms and wiped his palms against his knees. He wasn’t sure how long he had. Harry hadn’t specified, so he knew it was best that he work fast.

The owl hooted from its perch, and Draco grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill, scribbling a quick response.

_Noted. Will be there._

_DM_

He tied the letter around the owl’s leg, but the owl didn’t budge. Instead, she lifted her other leg, offering a coin purse. “I have to pay you to imprison me?” He scrambled around his room until he found a few loose Sickles and Knuts in the drawer. He placed three Knuts in the pockets and scowled as she flew out the window. “Damn bird.”

Draco made his way to the bathroom and threw his clothes off in a hurry. The water took longer to heat up than he expected, and he ran his hands up and down his arms as he waited, chewing his lips. If they were sending for him on a schedule even Hermione Granger hadn’t anticipated, he knew well enough that had to be bad news.

The warm water didn’t sooth his nerves as much as he’d hoped, and Draco rushed to dry his hair before applying a light amount of moisturizer to his face. He wanted to make sure he was ready by the time Harry returned, and from what he’d seen over the past few months, Harry didn’t have much of a routine.

Draco ironed his robes with a spell and threw them on before heading back to the bathroom to dry his hair, throw product in it, and style it. He wondered if perhaps it was a bad idea to drag Harry into this more than he already was. From what Draco had seen, some of Harry’s coworkers were already unfriendly as it was. Defending him was not the way to get them on his good side.

Draco jerked as he heard the door open and realized he had been standing in the bathroom for minutes, brush held loosely in his hand. He set it down and fixed a stray hair that had fallen before grabbing his toothbrush and liberally squeezing toothpaste on it.

“Draco?” Harry called.

“In the bathroom!” Draco shouted, brushing hard enough that his gums hurt. Harry popped up in the doorway. “How did you get back in?” His voice sounded muffled around the toothbrush.

“I grabbed the keys on my way out,” Harry said as he popped up by the doorframe. “I hope that’s okay. I just wasn’t sure if you’d still be showering or getting ready. I think I’m faster than you.”

Draco spat out into the sink. “Only because you don’t respect a proper routine. He glanced over at Harry for the first time. His dress robes were slightly wrinkled, and his hair, while damp, was still a mess. Draco motioned to it. “I rest my case with that mop alone. Get that sorted out while I go grab my wand before I forget it.”

When he came back, he saw Harry crouched down, looking under the sink. “I can’t seem to find your hairdryer,” he said, furrowing his brow.

“My what?” Draco wasn’t sure he’d ever heard of it before, but from the name, he could piece together it’s function. “Merlin, Harry, you’re hopeless. You think that’s just a stick you carry around with you, not a wand. You know what, let me help.” He reached for the texturizing paste and squeezed out a little onto his fingers.

“What are you doing?”

“Making you look a little less like a disheveled bachelor. Now tilt your head down.” Harry huffed indignantly but didn’t say anything. He dropped his head, and Draco ran his fingers through Harry’s hair, careful to work his way from the roots down.

“Feels nice,” Harry said, quietly enough that Draco almost thought he’d imagined it. The tips of Draco’s ears heated up, and he dropped his hands. Harry looked up, his eyes wide. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t. It’s just done.” Draco broke contact and cleared his throat as he turned the sink back on. “You might want to just push it back a little. Just not too hard. You don’t want to get all your fringe out of the way.”

“Why? Because a fringe-free look is your thing only?”

“No. It suits you.” This time, it was Harry’s turn to turn pink, and Draco, though he couldn’t explain it, felt a deep satisfaction run over him as he saw Harry blink several times in a row and stare ahead with a surprised expression.

“Have you eaten?” Harry asked after a moment.

“I’m not hungry,” Draco said. “Somehow the impending thought of Azkaban doesn’t really strike up an appetite.” Harry scowled and hit him. Draco rubbed his arm as he stepped out of the bathroom. “That was unnecessary. Do you want me to make you something really quickly?”

“Honestly, I’m not very hungry either,” Harry said. “I suppose we should head over to the Ministry soon anyway. We’ll have to take the guest entrance since you can’t Floo from your house. Let me just –” Harry pulled out his wand. “Tempus.”

8:28.

“I suppose we have a little bit of time,” Harry said. “Would you mind if I –” He pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his robes, and Draco shook his head. They stepped to Draco’s bedroom and through it onto his balcony.

“Somehow didn’t peg you as a Lambert and Butler type of person,” Draco said, motioning to the pack.

“I’m not.” Harry popped them open. “I roll, but it’s useful to carry them around.” He leaned forward, arms dangling past the ledge as he lit his cigarette and took a deep drag in. His shoulders lowered as he breathed out, and he closed his eyes. “I would offer you one, but I’m guessing you don’t smoke.”

“No. I’m surprised you do.”

“You should have seen when the rest of the wizarding world found out. I made the front page of half the tabloids, and page three of The Daily Prophet.” Harry let out a low laugh and twisted the cigarette between his fingers. “I just like how it feels, even just to hold it. Calms me down.” A cloud of smoke curled around his lips as he spoke.

Neither of them spoke for a minute, but as quiet as this moment was, all Draco could think about were the few hours ahead of him. His trial, as impending as it was, seemed like it was too far away. The thought of having to sit in some dreary office for hours made bile rise in his mouth.

“Do you think they’ve already decided on Azkaban? I mean, when we were in the office with Matthews, he sounded like he’d made up his mind.” No matter how much he’d been thinking about it, vocalizing it, made his body go cold. There was something more real about it now that he’d vocalized it.

For a moment, Harry looked as if he was going to push back, but he must have decided against it because when he responded, the look in his eyes was something close to pity. “I don’t know. I hope not.”

Draco bit the inside of his cheek and pulled back. He could deal with it all except for the pity. “I’m going to go grab a glass of water.” He ran a hand through his hair and smiled tightly. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen when you’re done.”

Draco kept his back straight through his bedroom and even down the hall. But once he reached the kitchen, he collapsed forward, leaning his weight on the counters. Any remaining hope crumbled away as he tried to steady his breath and keep from crying. It seemed like a lot of effort to get dressed up and spend the day with knots in his stomach to find out just how bad he was going to have it.

And his mother – Draco could barely keep from crying once the thought popped up in his head. As strong as she was, she had no one if he was locked up. He had seen her after her father had been locked away. She had withered at first, losing weight until she seemed fragile, like a shell. She would manage if he was sent to Azkaban, but he could only imagine what toll it would take on her.

Draco poured himself a glass of water and drank a small sip as he tried to steady his nerves. A part of him wanted to stay here until he had to go. If he could guarantee that it’d be Cadmus, Draco was certain his resolve would crumble. But the fear that it might be Freya was enough to keep him from entertaining the thought for too long.

He jumped as a throat cleared behind him, and he turned to see Harry, the same look over his face. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, folding his hands in front of him.

“It’s fine.” Draco turned around again so that his back was facing Harry.

“I’m sorry.”

Draco stiffened his shoulders and finished his glass before setting it in the sink. “We should go. You shouldn’t be late for work.”

When Draco faced him, Harry simply nodded, and they stepped out of the apartment side-by-side, an uncomfortable silence hanging over them. They Apparated into a small alleyway, and Harry motioned towards a small, red booth. “After you.”

“I thought the entrance was through the toilet,” recalling the unpleasant sensation of stepping into it the last time they were there.

“I find this one more pleasant,” Harry said, and motioned again. Draco stepped forward and pressed against the wall to make room for Harry to get in as well. There was barely any space, and he watched with distrust as Harry pressed a few buttons with numbers on them.

And then they were going down. Draco’s jaw hurt as he ground his teeth together, waiting for it to be over, and eventually they emerged into the hall. The last time he had been to the Ministry – excluding his most recent trip with Harry – was to fill out some paperwork after their trials. His father had taken him there several times as a child, and what had once seemed like a symbol of the vast power of wizards, felt claustrophobic.

They stepped out of the booth, and Draco could feel all eyes on him. If it had been this bad last time, he hadn’t noticed. Draco couldn’t imagine there would have been any way to miss it. One younger witch stopped walking down the hall and craned her neck as her gaze followed him past.

“Is it me or are people nosier than they were before?” Draco asked, trying to squeeze past a lean, purple-haired wizard who would not move.

Harry didn’t look back at him, but Draco saw his frown deepen. “Have you not been keeping up with The Daily Prophet?”

“Not particularly.”

They stopped in front of the security desk, and the wizard seated at it outstretched his hand. “Wand please,” he deadpanned.

“You’ve made the front page three times in the past week,” Harry said. He scowled. “They’ll do anything to get people to buy them, but it’s gotten people even more interested in your trial.”

“Good to know.” Draco dug his wand out of his pocket, wishing he at least blended in better. He handed it to the wizard working security, who set it on his device.

He handed Draco back his wand and read the strip of paper produced in a low drawl. “Ten inches, unicorn hair core?”

“Yes,” Draco said. The wizard ran over him with a slim, golden tool and moved back to his desk without another word.

Draco was practically counting down the minutes until they were in Harry’s office, but once they got off the elevator, Harry steered him in another direction. They were almost there when Draco realized. “What are we doing?” he asked, but Harry just waved his hand dismissively.

“Let me do the talking,” Harry said and knocked.

“Come in.” The doors to Matthews’ office swung open, and Harry stepped in. Draco followed, two steps behind him, and when Matthews looked up, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Harry. Mr. Malfoy.” He pursed his lips and set his quill down. “If you’re here to plead Mr. Malfoy’s case, the trial is in four hours, so you might as well save your speech for the Wizengamot.”

It was barely perceptible, but Draco saw Harry’s jaw clench. “No, I just wanted to let you know that I received your owl and decided to stop by Mr. Malfoy’s to bring him to work with me, just in case there were any last-minute changes to the schedule.” Draco wasn’t entirely sure why Harry was lying, but his stomach twisted.

“I’ll let Cadmus know there’s no need to pick him up,” Matthews said. The tension in the room was apparent, and now that Draco knew Cadmus would have picked him up, he was starting to regret coming with Harry. Harry turned around to walk out, but before he could, Matthews spoke again. “I’m heading to the meeting on —” He glanced at Draco and cut himself off. “If you care to join me, I’m sure Mr. Malfoy can entertain himself in your office.”

“Of course. Let me just drop him off, and I’ll be right back.” Harry could not have sounded stiffer if he tried. He stepped out of the office and closed the doors behind him. “Bastard,” he muttered under his breath. “We had a meeting scheduled for this evening. I doubt he’s even officially changed it.” With a brisk pace, they walked down corridors to Harry’s office. Harry pulled an old-looking key out of his robes and unlocked the door.

Unlike Matthews’s office, which was sterile enough to remind him of St. Mungo’s, Harry’s felt warm. It was smaller than Matthews’s but still sizable, and despite the gentle patter of the rain on the windows, the room was well-lit. Draco barely had time to look around before Harry was ready to head out again, so he focused his attention away from the room.

“Will you be okay?” Harry asked, reaching out and squeezing Draco’s arm.

‘Okay’ wasn’t how Draco would describe his general state at the moment, but he nodded anyway. “You should go. I’m sure Matthews will be waiting.” Harry nodded and gave Draco a tight-lipped smile before stepping out and closing the door. The moment the door closed, Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and carded his fingers through his hair. A part of him felt thankful Harry wasn’t here. He wouldn’t have to deal with any uncomfortable small talk as Harry tried and failed to act like it was any ordinary day.

Draco walked across the room and made his way over to the wall of bookshelves. “So this is where you keep everything,” he mumbled to himself.” Harry, it turned out, was less woefully read than Draco had thought. Although he had an entire bookshelf dedicated to wizarding law and spells, he had another tall one with fiction books written Muggles and wizards alike and a short one filled to the brim with books on various other subjects, from Quidditch to gardening to a book titled _The Unofficial Biography and Breakdown of Every Weird Sisters Song_.

Draco grabbed a few choice reads before heading back to Harry’s desk. Everything was as it had been in Harry’s apartment — organized chaos. Stacks of papers piled up all over the desk. In one corner, Harry had a snow globe paper weight in which a small wizard flew around on a broom, chasing a snitch. In the other was a photo of what must have been his parents next to a photo Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, standing with their arms wrapped around each other’s waists, laughing uncontrollably.

After setting the books down, Draco picked it up. He hadn’t seen a look like that on Harry’s face since Hogwarts. Even on his better days, Harry still looked exhausted. But here, he almost glowed. At one point in the photo, Harry and Ginny looked at each other with enough affection that Draco couldn’t help but wonder how something like that could end. Feeling overly nosy, he set the photo back down and grabbed the top thing on his stack — last month’s copy of The Practical Potioneer.

He read the first few articles in their entirety as well as an interview with a Lithuanian potioneer who was trying to make an ethical case that certain practical potions should be accessible to Muggles. The rest he skimmed through, but Draco was surprised to find that over an hour had passed by the time he was done reading that.

He read a mediocre book of short stories by some Muggle author he hadn’t heard of before and decided to take a break. The rain had stopped in the sometime since he’d started reading, and as he leaned back in his chair, he took a deep breath in and out. In any other situation, this would have been relaxing. But now it just felt like the final hurrah, and not even a particularly fun one.

He had been sitting, stuck in his thoughts for half an hour when a knock sounded at the door. Before Draco could respond, the door swung open.

“Harry, I got in touch with Neville, like you asked, and he should —” Hermione stopped as soon as she saw Draco and quickly covered up her look of surprise. “Oh, is Harry out?”

“There’s a meeting, apparently,” Draco said. “I’m assuming it’ll be over soon, considering the time.”

Hermione nodded. Draco expected her to leave, but instead, she closed the door and stepped inside. “I don’t think you should be waiting alone.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Draco snapped.

“I didn’t think you do. I just meant, you shouldn’t be alone with your thoughts.”

Draco felt instant regret for snapping at her. “Oh, well, it’s been nice to have some time alone, if I’m being honest. I feel like I’ve mostly been with Harry.”

“I can leave if you’d like.” Hermione shifted and took a step toward the door.

“No, please stay.” The intensity with which he said it surprised even him. “I just know Harry would try to take my mind off of this by talking about anything else, and I don’t think I could handle that right now.”

When he met Hermione’s eyes, he was surprised to find warmth above all else. He motioned to a chair on the other side of the desk, and she walked over and sat down. For a moment, they stared at each other in silence before Draco cleared his throat. “How have you been?”

“Busy.” Hermione motioned to him. “You know.” She paused before adding, “I hope you don’t find this rude, but I think if someone told me a few months ago that I would be helping Draco Malfoy, I would have said they lost their mind.” She shook her head and looked at her lap. Based on the way she sat stiffly. Draco figured she wasn’t comfortable.

“I don’t think I expected it either,” Draco said. “I know I said it before, but I’m sorry about –” Hermione’s hand shot up, and Draco cut himself off.

“You were a horrible person. Vile, entitled. Sometimes you were downright cruel.” Draco’s stomach fell, but he bit his cheek to keep from speaking. “I know that’s not who you are now, but Harry’s always been good at seeing the best in people. He found it in his heart to forgive Snape, to forgive Dumbledore. I’m not as good at it. I – I can’t say I’m fully comfortable around you, but…” Hermione took a deep breath, and her posture loosened. “I know you’re different than you were. I can tell you feel sorry just by being around you.”

“I am.”

“But being sorry doesn’t erase everything.”

“I know.” The air felt like it had been sucked out of the room, and Draco’s stomach plummeted. If this was what Hermione thought of him, he wasn’t sure how much luck he was going to have in the courtroom.

“But I don’t think you deserve Azkaban.”

“Thanks.” Draco glanced down at his hands as he picked at his cuticles and avoided Hermione’s intense gaze.

“And I don’t think they have a particularly strong case. Which isn’t to say they can’t win, but I think it gives you more room to push back.”

“You’ve said.”

Hermione sighed. “Draco, you can’t just wilt under this kind of scrutiny. I know it’s uncomfortable, but you’re going to have to show them that you’re not that person anymore, and if you just quiver like a bowl of jelly every time someone brings up your past, you’re not going to get very far.”

Draco glanced up and was surprised to see a small, tired smile on Hermione’s lips. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” A small purple paper flew under the door and landed on the desk in front of Hermione, and Draco jumped. “It’s from Harry,” Hermione said, opening it. The tips of her ears turned red, and she shook her head. “Harry says they’ve moved your trial up an hour. His meeting just ended and that we should meet him downstairs right now. Your trial starts in twenty minutes.”

The knot in Draco’s stomach tightened, and he froze, unable to get up. It suddenly struck him that he’d never sent an owl out to his mother. He knew it was perhaps a ridiculous thing to worry about in the moment, but he couldn’t help but imagine Harry breaking the news to her.

“Draco, we have to go,” Hermione said.

“I know. I can’t – I mean, I’m –” He cut off, and his breath hitched. He propped himself up on the desk and pushed himself up out of the chair. Even as he moved, he felt a dream-like stupor as if he were watching himself act rather than do it himself. Before he had taken two steps, Hermione had walked around the desk and put her hands on either of his shoulders.

“I don’t think you understand how much Harry cares about you. He’s not going to let anything happen. Matthews only holds so much power. You just have to trust us.” She squeezed, and Draco felt himself return to his body. “Can you do that?”

Draco nodded. “I trust you.”

They made their way to the elevator and down as his head spun. The elevator emptied out at the ninth basement level, and they made their way down the staircase to the tenth. No sooner had they turned the corridor than did Draco see Harry, pacing from side to side. A strange wave of relief hit him, and he sped up his pace. It took a moment for Harry to see him, but when he did, he stopped pacing.

“You got my memo, then?” Harry asked as soon as they were within earshot. Although the question was directed at Hermione, he did not take his eyes off of Draco.

“Yes, I did. Any idea why they pushed it forward so last minute?”

“I think it’s my fault. Matthews clearly didn’t like that I brought Draco to work with me.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Draco reached out and placed his hand on Harry’s arm, Hermione’s words echoing through his head – _you just have to trust us_. He took a deep breath.

“You should go in before you cut it too close,” Hermione said, glancing between the two of them. “And Harry, I got in touch with Neville. I’ll need to send him another owl, but –”

“That’s brilliant, Hermione. Thank you so much.” Harry reached over and pulled Hermione in for a hug. “I owe both you and Ron a lot.”

“Just buy the drinks next time we go out, and we’ll call it even,” she said. She straightened her back and gave Draco one more appraising look. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” Draco swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the lump in his throat. As Hermione turned on her heels, Draco and Harry both watched until she rounded the corner. The silence hovered between them for a moment before Draco broke it. “She’s right. We should go in.”

“Yeah.” Harry grabbed Draco’s hand and squeezed it tightly. When he felt that Harry’s hand was just as clammy as his own, he let out a choked laugh and squeezed back. “You’ll be fine,” Harry said, sounding as if he was half-reassuring himself.

“I know I will,” Draco said. “I have you on my side.” With that, he stepped forward and pushed the doors to Courtroom Ten open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I'm sorry it's been so long and that this might seem like a little bit of a filler chapter. I've had the trial planned out for quite a while, so I'm excited I'm finally getting to it. The next chapter should be out soon, so keep an eye out for it! Also, I've been reading and really appreciating all of your reviews. I'm sorry I've fallen behind on individually replying. I'll get around to that sometime as well, but I just wanted to say that I cannot express how much it means to me to hear all your lovely words. Y'all brought some smiles to me on some pretty tough days. Hope you all are enjoying the holidays! 
> 
> Also, I'm debating posting a little holiday-themed one-shot, so if you have any prompts you're dying to see, feel free to send them my way.


	9. Chapter Eight

The walk to the chair in the center of the room seemed so far with all eyes on him. The entirety of the Wizengamot was seated, and the moment the doors opened and he stepped in, their voices dropped first to a whisper and then to silence. The back of his neck heated up, and he tried to focus his attention on the chair alone. The chains dangling from them did little to ease his worry. The last time he’d seen this chair, they had wound their way around his father’s arms and legs, keeping him in place even though there hadn’t been much of a fight in him to begin with.

Draco took a deep breath sat down, and Harry made eye contact with him as he passed by to sit at the chair behind Draco’s, but for the first time, it did little to reassure him.

Looking up directly at the members of the Wizengamot only made it worse. There were few kind faces. Kingsley’s stood out in the center, but Harry had warned him, Kingsley’s word weighed the same as everyone else’s when it came down to the vote.

It only took a moment for Draco to find Matthews. He looked down at Draco with a cold and calculating look that made Draco’s stomach drop. Before Draco had too much time to dwell on what it could mean, Kingsley cleared his throat. “I believe everyone here wants to get this over with. It’s been a while since we’ve needed to convene.” A quill beside him perked up and began to scribble, presumably taking notes. “Are you ready to start, Mr. Malfoy?”

“I am.” Draco’s voice wobbled, and he cleared his throat before repeating, more firmly, “I am, sir.”

“And you as well, Mr. Potter?”

“I am,” Harry called out behind him.

“Excellent. Interrogators are Averill Tyne Matthews, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Freya Malvoia Tyndall, high-ranking official within the Office of Aurors. Witness for the defense is Harry James Potter, high-ranking official within the Office of Aurors. Today’s date is September twenty-fourth. Mr. Malfoy is called forth for breaking the Decree for the Registration of Animagi. I will let Averill Tyne Matthews proceed.”

Despite Matthews’s best attempt to appear calm and balance, Draco spotted the malicious glint in his eyes. “Mr. Malfoy, are you aware that under section two of the Decree for the Registration of Animagi, wizarding law clearly states that all wizards who are attempting to transfigure themselves must register themselves in the Ministry’s official records no later than the first day of successful transformation.”

“I am.”

“When – may I ask – was your first successful transformation?”

“Three years ago. Maybe a little more.” Draco could see a few members of the Wizengamot glancing between themselves. Harry had warned him that the closeness of his first transformation to his father’s imprisonment would be easily manipulated by Matthews.

“And are you aware why the Decree was set in place?”

“To ensure wizards did not abuse their powers as Animagi.”

“More specifically, do you know the history of the law?” Matthews asked. He tilted his head to the side and pursed his lips. The history of the law hadn’t come up, and Draco looked behind to Harry, who looked just as bewildered. When Draco looked back at Matthews, an unmistakable smirk had formed.

“Why is the history of the Decree relevant to Mr. Malfoy?” Harry asked. Draco couldn’t help but think his name sounded strange coming out of Harry’s mouth like that.

“I take it that you don’t know the history either, Mr. Potter. Then this will be a learning moment for both of you.” Draco wanted to object. It was clear that Matthews was attempting to belittle both of them. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see where Matthews was going with this.

Harry must not have either because Draco saw him step forward out of the corner of his eyes. “But why is it relevant?” Harry asked again.

“It is relevant because if Mr. Malfoy had known the history, he would understand what a clear abuse of power this is, and considering his family’s history with such matters…” He trailed off. The tips of Draco’s ears burned, but he knew better than to push back.

“Mr. Malfoy is not his father nor his family history. In fact, he and his mother were cleared of charges seven years ago.”

“Pardoned and with your recommendation, if I remember correctly,” Matthews said. Draco hadn’t known whose recommendation it had been, and despite the pink tinge to Harry’s cheek, the defiant look in Harry’s eyes only grew.

“With almost unanimous agreement from the Wizengamot that they did not deserve the same fate as Lucius Malfoy.” Harry’s voice was surprisingly steady. Had Draco closed his eyes, the two would have sounded no more unnerved than they might have been over a friendly debate over a Butterbeer, but their tight-lipped expressions said it all. “I won’t press any further. If you’d like to continue with your history lesson,” Harry said.

“I agree. I think we would all like to hear the point you’re trying to make,” Kingsley said, cutting through the tension. Underneath his kindness, a sharp edge in his voice warned not to press their luck.

“In the late 1920s, there was an unsettling amount of people using their Animagus forms as disguises to commit crimes. They were not tracked easily. Floo Powder, Portkeys, even Apparition to a certain degree – these were all easy methods to trace back to a specific witch or wizard. But no one was looking for an animal, so it was easy for Animagi to leave stealthily without people knowing that they’d ever left at all. There was an increasingly high rate of Animagi linked to the uprising of the Dark Arts. So, in 1933, the Ministry decreed that all Animagi must be willing to sign themselves to a registry so that Ministry officials could better keep track of them.” Matthews paused. “Why didn’t you want to come forward if you had nothing to hide, Mr. Malfoy?”

Draco stared blankly at Matthews, trying to process the implication. “You believe that I’ve been using my Animagus form to – what – scurry off and practice the Dark Arts like some wizards did almost a century ago?” He knew he was supposed to remain calm. It was the one thing Hermione had warned him about most in their practices, but the jump between Matthews’s points seemed impossibly ridiculous.

“No one said anything about the Dark Arts, Mr. Malfoy!” Matthews shook his head. “I merely asked if you had anything to hide. If that’s what you heard, though, I think that speaks more of you than it does of me.”

“The implication was there,” Draco said, trying to steady his voice. “And I had nothing to hide. I just wanted peace and quiet.”

“From what?”

The truth sounded bad. To say he wanted time away from the Ministry’s watchful eye would only make cement the belief that he had something to hide, but it was the only explanation he had. “I spend eight to ten hours a day at St. Mungo’s for work. I understand why the Ministry wanted me under close surveillance, but I couldn’t leave to go grab a drink without being followed.”

“So you go to Knockturn Alley to grab drinks, then?” Matthews asked.

“Yes.” Matthews didn’t say anything for a moment. The lingering silence felt heavy, and Draco shifted in his chair.

“How has your financial situation been since the war?” The sudden switch of topic surprised him.

“Did you want to know my salary?” A sarcastic edge crept up in his voice that made Draco wince. But beside him, he heard – just barely – Harry chuckle quietly enough that only he could hear.

“That won’t be necessary.” Matthews scowled. “Compared to before the war, how is it?”

Draco could feel bile making his way up his throat as he realized where this was likely going. He swallowed thickly and took a deep breath before replying. “It was better before.”

“Your general standing in the wizarding world must have gone down following your father’s imprisonment,” Matthews said. “That must have been hard.”

“You’re leading,” Harry interrupted. “I think you’re insulting the intelligence of everyone in this room if you pretend like we don’t know where you’re going with this.”

“Fine, then I’ll cut to the chase. Mr. Nott offered evidence stating that he believed Mr. Malfoy was using his Animagus form not to grab drinks in Knockturn Alley – which, if we think about it, is a relatively flimsy excuse – but rather to attend some underground meeting of wizards, several of You-Know-Who’s former followers, who were attempting to revive the Dark Arts.”

A murmur broke through the Wizengamot as Draco saw red. His hands twitched, and his throat closed as he stared at Matthews. He was afraid if he opened his mouth that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from yelling in protest. He could only imagine the glee on Theo's face as he lied.

Harry stepped forward, moving in front of Draco and ran a hand through his hair, sending it every which direction. “Impossible. I presided over our conversations with Mr. Nott, and he never said any such thing.”

“After you stepped forward saying you were going to represent Mr. Malfoy, I asked Freya to conduct interviews of our own to ensure we had the complete story. Mr. Nott told us that he could tell you were biased toward the defendant and did not feel comfortable trusting you with this information.”

“Mr. Nott also told us that he had no idea of Mr. Malfoy’s whereabouts.”

“Did he know that Mr. Malfoy was at your residence?” Freya asked. She smiled coldly as both Harry and Draco looked at her. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but Mr. Nott did not, in fact, know of Mr. Malfoy’s whereabouts.”

“He was the one who cursed Mr. Malfoy in the first place! He had his wand. He knew where it took place, and when we questioned him about the altercation in front of the bar, he told us that it was Mr. Malfoy casting that spell in an attempt to hurt him.” Harry’s voice rose steadily as he spoke. “I don’t think I can name a single more unreliable witness.” The murmurs among the Wizengamot grew, and Draco’s eyes darted around, watching as people observed him, half with curiosity, half with disgust.

“Oh, I can,” she cut back, her eyes narrowing.

“Mr. Matthews. Ms. Tyndall. Both of you know better than to use a witness that has lied under oath,” Kingsley said.

“Fine,” Freya said. “But we should still consider what he said as a _possibility_. If Mr. Malfoy has been practicing the Dark Arts under our noses, I believe we’d all want to know.”

“Those are very serious claims,” Kingsley said. “And unless you have evidence –”

“What about his years at Hogwarts, tormenting other Muggle-born students? His hand in Albus Dumbledore’s death? I refuse to believe a boy like that would simply use transfiguration to grab himself a drink, in Knockturn Alley of all places!” Freya scoffed.

“If you are questioning his character, I am happy to call forth our first character witness,” Harry said. He turned to look at Draco. Draco wasn’t sure what it was, but the moment Harry looked at him, the anger on his face melted away. Instead, it was replaced by a calm, resolute look, and he offered Draco a fleeting smile before turning back around. “I’d like to call Hermione Granger.”

The doors to the courtroom swung open, and Hermione stepped in. She had changed from her work robes into dress robes and had since put up her hair. The worry flooding Draco began to ebb away, at least a little. This they had well-rehearsed, and there was only so much margin for Freya or Matthews to manipulate Hermione’s words. If nothing else, she was too clever to let them.

“Ms. Granger, can you please state your relationship with Mr. Malfoy,” Harry asked.

“Now or prior to the past few weeks?” Hermione asked.

“What was your relationship with him up until a few weeks ago?”

“Strained, I suppose is the nicest way of putting it. Mr. Malfoy was not particularly kind to me while we were at Hogwarts.”

“In which ways?”

“Well, it was clear he had grown up in a certain type of Pureblood family. He had been brought up to believe that Muggle-born magic folk were inferior to others.”

“How so?”

This was a script Draco knew well. He knew what Hermione was going to say emphasized his past for what it was – his past. Still, no matter how many times he heard it, the brutal honesty of it made him shift uncomfortably in his seat.

“Mr. Malfoy general went out of his way to call me names, to insult me, and to try to get me in trouble.” Hermione ran a hand down her robes, smoothing them out. “He made it clear that he did not think I had a place at Hogwarts.

“And when would you say this changed?”

“By the end of our Sixth year, he seemed to realize that he was in over his head. His father had been linked to Voldemort –” People shifted at the name. “— by the end of our Fifth year, and as a compromise of sorts – from what I understand – he had agreed to take the Dark Mark.”

“Over his head doesn’t necessarily mean that he had changed his opinion on Muggle-borns.”

“No, it does not.” Hermione glanced over at Draco. “I don’t think I can answer for him when those opinions changed, but when we were captured by Snatchers during the war, we were taken to the Malfoy Manor, which had since been taken over by Voldemort. He had an opportunity to turn us in, and he chose not to. It would have been an easy way to get back into Voldemort’s good graces and to have us – well, I suppose to put it kindly – eliminated. But he chose not to. He lied.”

“That was several years ago?”

“Correct. It was during the war.”

“So, since then, you haven’t had much interaction with him?”

“Only recently.”

“And how would you characterize him?” Harry straightened his back, and Draco felt the painful knot in his stomach ease up a little more.

“Remorseful. Gentle. Definitely not the boy I knew. I’m not on my way to becoming friends with him, but had he been this way when we met, I am sure we would have been.”

“That’ll be all,” Harry said.

Matthews wasted no time in jumping in. He must have sensed that the resolve of certain people within the room was fading. Had Draco not been petrified and had he not heard it rehearsed before, he was certain he would have felt touched by Hermione’s words. Rehearsed or not, he knew they were sincere.

“How long have you been friends with Mr. Potter?” Matthews asked.

“Since we were eleven.”

“You, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Potter have even been characterized as best friends in articles and books.” He pressed his lips together.

“Yes.”

“There’s very little you wouldn’t be willing to do for Mr. Potter, then, I’m sure.” He chuckled, but it was devoid of any mirth.

“I would never lie, Mr. Matthews,” Hermione said, her voice still, “and frankly, I don’t appreciate that type of insinuation. It’s offensive.”

“I am certain you have your biases nonetheless. If Mr. Potter tells you that Mr. Malfoy can be trusted, naturally, you’d believe him.” Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but he interrupted her before she could. “I have friends whose word I would trust over all else as well.”

“I trust him. I don’t think he has any reason to lie in this matter. But I have always approached his claims with healthy skepticism.” As Hermione took a steadying breath, Matthews opened his mouth, but this time, Hermione cut him off before he could interrupt her. “More importantly, I am appalled that you think I would not tell you if I believed Mr. Malfoy was a serious threat to Muggle-borns. I understand that your family suffered losses in the war, Mr. Matthews. But this war was waged over people like me. People like me who were told that they not only didn’t deserve to be part of the wizarding world but didn’t deserve to live. If there was any part of me that believed that Mr. Malfoy could possibly be dangerous, I would not hesitate to inform you.”

For the first time, Matthews seemed stunned into silence. “Are there any further questions?” Kingsley asked after a moment. It was as if Draco could see the gears in Matthews’s head start moving as he tried to think of another question.

“No,” Freya responded. “I believe that’s it.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said. She turned on her heels, making the briefest of eye contact with Draco before walking out.

“If that’s all, we’d like to address the question of –” Matthews started, but Harry, clearly emboldened by his success with Hermione, stopped him.

“I’d like to call a second character witness. Neville Longbottom.”

 _Neville Longbottom_? Draco furrowed his brow. Everything had been rehearsed over and over, yet no one had ever mentioned anything about Neville joining them. They had discussed other people, but Neville had never come up. All Draco wanted to do was to look to Harry for some explanation, but Harry wasn’t facing him, and even if he was, with all eyes on them, he wouldn’t be able to ask. 

The doors opened, and Neville walked in. It was clear that he was making an active effort to keep his back straight and to appear calm, but he nonetheless looked more uncomfortable than anxious. He moved to the front of the court. 

“Mr. Longbottom, will you state your relationship to the accused,” Harry said. 

“Dra — err, Mr. Malfoy frequently tends to my parents. He is the primarily Healer for their ward.” Neville folded his hands in front of himself and looked around the court, making eye contact with several people. 

“This isn’t how the two of you met, however?” 

“No, it is not. We met at Hogwarts.” Neville chuckled nervously. 

“Judging by your laugh I’d say you two did not have the best relationship.” Draco looked away from Neville. In the times that they had interacted, it had never come come up, even if he had frequently thought of it. “Mr. Malfoy, as everyone is well aware, used to be a certain way and hold certain beliefs. We went over this just before you with Ms. Granger. But I was wondering when you first interacted with Mr. Malfoy after your time at school.” 

“We first interacted at St. Mungo’s four years ago, almost immediately after Mr. Malfoy began working there,” Neville said. 

“And this was because of your parents.” 

“Yes, they’re patients there.” Neville’s cheeks turned pink, and Draco felt a wave of pity. He had seen first-hand how hard this was for Neville. “There was an incident in the First Wizarding War.” 

“And since you’ve known Mr. Malfoy at St. Mungo’s, how would you characterize him?” 

Neville paused, clearly trying to find the right words. “Distant. Guarded. But very kind too. You’d never know it, though. I don’t think he wants you to.”

Draco had no clue Neville felt that way towards him, and his warm words caught him off-guard. Tears welled in his eyes, and he did his best to push them back. 

“Can you elaborate on that?” Harry asked.

“Well, for example, two years ago was the first year I couldn’t spend Christmas with my parents. I had to stay at Hogwarts, and I felt incredibly guilty. I decided to leave the next morning and met with Ms. Edevane, and—" 

“Who is that?”

“The head Healer on staff. And she told me that Mr. Malfoy had spent the entire afternoon and evening with them. I don’t think Mr. Malfoy would have ever told me himself that he did that.” 

Draco’s cheeks flushed. He wanted to object. If he had just been Neville there and not a whole court, he would have. He had signed up for the Christmas shift as it was. It had only been his job. But it wasn’t his turn to speak, and Draco knew better than to interrupt. 

“Thank you, Mr. Longbottom,” Harry said. 

“Any further questions?” Kingsley asked, turning to look at Freya. She must have decided that there was little she could get out of Neville that she wanted because she did not hesitate before responding. 

“That’ll be it.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Longbottom,” Kingsley said, and Neville, after throwing Draco one final glance, walked out. 

Once the doors had shut behind them, Freya spoke up again. “So both of the character witnesses you called are long-time friends of yours, Mr. Potter?” 

“If you’d like, I could call Ms. Edevane, who Neville mentioned, to the stand. She graciously offered, but I told her it wasn’t necessary.” Harry tilted his head slightly and looked at Freya as if challenging her to test him. 

As much as he didn’t want to rely on hope, it was obvious that Harry was beginning to feel more comfortable with where they were. Draco too had to admit that as far as he could tell, it was looking positive. 

“That’s not necessary,” Freya muttered. 

“Fine, presuming Mr. Malfoy’s character and motivations aren’t under scrutiny, he still broke a law, and under paragraph F, section three, the Decree for the Registration of Animagi states that ‘any witch or wizard who does not comply with these guidelines can be sentenced to up to one year in Azkaban!’” Matthews said. The witch to his right jumped and looked at him in concern as his volume steadily rose. 

“What came of Rita Skeeter when she was discovered after the Second Wizarding War?” Harry asked. 

“What do you mean?” 

“She was unregistered, and yet it was never a question with her. Even though she’d been unregistered for decades. If we are going to administer punishments for these trespasses, we have to do it equally, don’t we?” 

The final piece fell into place. That had been the crux of their argument when they had planned it out. Judging by the faces that Draco looked up at, it had landed. 

“It seems we should take this to a vote,” Kingsley said. “Unless you have more evidence,” he said to Matthews. Matthews shook his head. “Then let’s vote. Those in favor of sentencing Mr. Malfoy, please raise your hands.” 

This was it. This was the moment he’d replayed in his head since Theo had cursed him. Draco could barely watch. His stomach clenched, and he felt suddenly and strangely dizzy. But after what couldn’t have been more than fifteen hands — Matthews and Freya included — people stopped raising them. Kingsley glanced around. “I’d say we’ve reached a decision then.” 

Before he had a chance to sink into a wave of relief, Matthews spoke again. “So he should just be pardoned? He was under watch. He was given explicit warnings by the Ministry to be on his best behavior. We can argue whether Rita Skeeter should have been punished if you want, but Mr. Malfoy clearly violates the terms of his pardoning. If not for breaking the Decree, for breaking his pardon, he deserves punishment!” 

The floor fell underneath him. He had been so sure that was it. Of course it wasn’t, and Draco was already kicking himself for underestimating Matthews. 

“I don’t understand what you want,” Harry said, the hard tone back in his voice. 

“I want everyone to take a vote to decide if they believe Mr. Malfoy deserves some punishment, even if it isn’t Azkaban.” 

Harry’s mouth opened and closed, and Draco could tell this was not a scenario he had planned for. He let out a small huff and nodded once. “Fine.” 

“A vote then. Those in favor of a punishment — to be decided — outside of Azkaban, please raise your hand.” Kingsley sounded wary, but there was little he could do from his position presiding over the trial.

This time there were more hands. Draco counted as he saw them, first ten, then twenty, then—

“Twenty-eight to twenty-four in favor of a punishment.” 

Draco wanted to collapse in his chair. It seemed wildly unfair. They’d been so close to getting free. Matthews, who had looked defeated only moments earlier, began to smirk again.

“Since it was your idea to call for a vote, I believe we should ask you if you had any suggestions for a punishment you see fit,” Kingsley asked. Draco’s gaze moved to Harry, and he saw Harry bracing himself for the worst as well. 

Matthews pursed his lips together, contemplating, but Freya spoke first. “Might I suggest a year of house arrest.” She glanced over at Matthews, clearly aiming for his approval, and, after a moment, he granted it in the form of a terse nod. 

Harry looked back at Draco as well. It was obvious he wanted to fight it just from the look of determination on his face, but Draco couldn’t stomach anymore of this. He had been so certain he was going to wind up in Azkaban. If house arrest was the worst they could do, he would make it work. “I’ll take it,” he said 

Kingsley looked momentarily surprised as well but quickly recovered. “I believe we can adjourn then. We will schedule a follow-up meeting with Mr. Malfoy to discuss the terms of his house arrest.”

Draco sat in shock as the room cleared out. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and he felt an odd floating sensation across his body. This was it. He was free. No Azkaban. He covered his mouth as he let out a choked laugh and turned to face Harry.

“I could have probably gotten you a lighter sentence. I don’t know why you didn’t let me.”

The giddiness was unstoppable though, even with Harry’s furrowed brow and frown. Draco couldn’t find it in him to be upset. Instead, he walked over to Harry.

“No really,” Harry insisted. “I wish you’d let me try to —“

Draco acted before he could entirely process what he was doing. Reaching up, he wound one hand into Harry’s hair and leaned down, pressing their lips together. He felt Harry tense up, but just as he was about to pull away, the gravity of his actions settling in, Harry reached a hand up as well and cupped Draco’s cheek.

Harry deepened the kiss, his lips parting as he let out a soft moan. Everything was clicking into place for Draco. He supposed it has never really been that far out of reach. After all, he had woken up this morning with Harry in his bed. And now —

Now he closed his eyes, smiling against Harry’s lips as he imagined his indignant scoff when he inevitably recommended him some chapstick to try out. Not that he cared that Harry’s lips were dry. After all, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Harry bit his lips constantly. A thrill went through him as he realized that there were many things he was sure he didn’t know about Harry that he was going to find out soon enough.

Draco let the scent of Harry’s cologne wash over him as he nipped at Harry’s lower lip, and his breath hitched. His hand loosened from Harry’s hair and moved down along his jawline, and Harry shivered under his touch. His stomach flipped as Harry lifted another hand and placed it on the small of his back, pulling him closer.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathing a bit deeper, it struck Draco that they were still in the empty court room, and he beamed. “You did it. You really fucking did it!”

Harry looked as if he wanted to say something, but he decided better in the end and just leaned forward, kissing Draco again.


	10. Chapter Nine

When Draco pulled back, his heart pounded in his chest. Harry’s eyes closed, and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against Draco’s. “All I want to do is go back home with you,” Harry said.

Draco had entirely forgotten that Harry was still at work and had half of the day left. Thankfully, the courtroom was empty, and they had managed to nab a moment to themselves, but it struck him that they wouldn’t be able to have this until the evening again. And it was finally starting to sink in what had just happened.

Harry pulled back and ran a hand through his hair. “I’d invite you to stay for the day in my office, but I’m sure it’ll be dull. And besides, I don’t think I should push my luck with Matthews. I’m sure he’ll be in a foul mood all day.”

Draco nodded as he did his best to ignore the bubbling sensation in his stomach. He’d tried to put his days of compulsive behavior behind him. His mind ran through question after question, and the smile on his face faltered a bit. But Harry had already turned around and was moving toward the door, so he didn’t notice.

They stepped outside, and Hermione and Neville were waiting for them. “What took you so long?” Hermione asked.

“Never mind that,” Harry said, waving it away. Still, Draco didn’t fail to catch as the tips of his ears turned pink.

Hermione and Neville must have missed it because Hermione then exclaimed, “I heard. Draco, congratulations!” She stepped forward and pulled Draco into a hug. Considering the conversation he’d had earlier in Harry’s office with Hermione, this was not what he’d expected. But he was still reeling from events moment prior, so he returned the hug. When she stepped back, she smiled brightly. “I told you that you had a chance.”

“I couldn’t have without your help.” He turned to Neville. “Or yours.”

Neville moved forward and pulled Draco into a hug as well. “I missed you at St. Mungo’s,” he said.

Draco relaxed a little. Obviously, he wasn’t going to get a chance alone with Harry to talk until later, so he figured he might as well put it out of mind until they could. “I missed you too. How are your parents?”

Neville smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “They’re all right. Ms. Edevane said they were a little restless, so I think it’ll be nice to have you back.” He shuffled his feet, and Draco knew it was time to change the subject.

“How did you get called here to begin with?” He turned to Harry and Hermione. “I thought we’d discussed Ms. Edevane.” Turning back to Neville and placing a hand on his shoulder, he added, “Not that I’m complaining.”

“When we went to see Ms. Edevane, she suggested we bring Neville up instead. She said he had nothing but kind words to say and that she was happy to testify as well if need be,” Hermione said.

“I’d been thinking of sending Harry an owl about it anyway,” Neville said. “Once I’d read what had happened. I figured no one knows how you’ve changed like I have. But I suppose these two might. And Ron. Where is he? I thought he was going to come.”

“Matthews sent him on a mission.” Hermione waved her hand. When Harry started to look concerned, she added, “Something routine with Muggles. I’m not sure. But I think it was just to get him away since he couldn’t get rid of us.” She scowled. “He’s beginning to get on my last nerve.”

“You know, same,” Draco said, and everyone laughed.

The conversation reached a natural lull, and Neville said, “I probably should be off. I have a class to teach still, and McGonagall is expecting me.” He laid his hand on Draco’s arm and squeezed. “I’m really glad you’re gonna be okay.”

A warmth spread across Draco, and he could feel his cheeks turning pink. He hadn’t expected so many people to care. Worry, outside of his mother’s, was an unfamiliar, emotion. Draco rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the ground, trying to blink away tears. “It means a lot that all of you were willing to help.”

The gravity of it was beginning to sink in fully. He was _free_. No more conversations about Azkaban. No more lunches spent over law textbooks like he was back at Hogwarts. He knew he had to meet with Matthews still, but there was only so much Matthews could throw his way. He bit the inside of his cheek and looked back up.

“You didn’t do anything worse than what my Dad or Sirius did,” Harry said. “I mean, in the grand scheme, sure. But not now, not recently.” He nudged him lightly, and Draco sighed.

“I should leave you all to go probably,” Draco said.

They headed back up the flight of stairs and up the elevator. After bidding Neville, Hermione, and Harry one last goodbye, he stepped out in the lobby. It felt strange leaving a free man. The glares in his general direction bothered him less, though he couldn’t help but wonder how many of the people would think, come tomorrow, that he got off too lightly. He focused his line of vision to what was directly in front of him.

Harry had told him he could now use the Floo system, so he did, and as he stepped out of the fireplace into his apartment, he felt overwhelmed by the quiet. Everyone in the Ministry had been hustling around and speaking. But now there was only quiet.

Draco made his way to his bedroom and took off his robes, tossing them over his desk chair along with everything else until he was just left in his boxers. He covered his mouth as he yawned and perched on the edge of his bed. The exhaustion was beginning to sink in, and as he rolled his shoulders, he noticed that his muscles ached.

Draco stood up and made his way over to his desk. He scrawled a quick note to his mother letting her know what had happened and attached it to his Ministry issued owl’s leg. After yawning again, he plopped himself onto the bed and sprawled out on top of the sheets.

“I deserve a nap,” he said to himself. Before he could drift out, he pulled the bed sheets over himself and closed his eyes. The memory of Harry’s face as he leaned their foreheads together drifted through his mind, but before he could dwell on it too much, he had drifted asleep.

\- - -

Draco woke up to a loud knock on the door. He groaned and pulled himself up, his head spinning as he tried to orient himself. The room had gotten significantly darker. Although the sun hadn’t yet set, it was going to soon. He fished his wand out of his robes and grabbed a pair of jeans from the closet.

Midway through pulling them on, someone knocked again. “Coming!” Draco shouted. He knew it had to be Harry, so he with just his jeans on and made his way to the door. Another knock sounded as he was a few steps away, and Draco rolled his eyes. “Harry, I swear on Merlin’s balls, if you don’t stop knocking, I will keep the door closed out of spite.”

He grabbed the handle, and the door swung open.

“Surprise!” Behind Harry was a group of people. Draco flushed, feeling the heat crawl up his neck and cheeks to the tips of his ears. He wrapped his arms around his torso, aware of everyone’s eyes on him, and he stepped inside and out of the way.

Harry stepped in first, and Draco grabbed him by the sleeve, pulling him in. “A little warning would be nice.”

“I assumed you would be up, celebrating,” Harry said. He pouted, and his gaze slipped down, past Draco’s neck and down his torso to the waist of his pants. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Don’t be crass, or I’ll hex you.” He turned on his heels and made his way to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him and running his hands over his face. This was not what he was expecting. He’d seen Hermione and Ron in the crowd, but so were Luna, Ginny, Neville, and some others he didn’t quite have a chance to see.

He threw on a button-up and socks and changed into nicer pants. After running a hand through his hair several times to slick it back, he stepped back out and made his way to the foyer to grab a pair of shoes. His mother stood by the door, her hands folded neatly in front of her as she gazed around the apartment.

“Mother!” Draco ran his hand through his hair again before smoothing down his shirt. “I thought this would mostly be Harry’s friends.”

“Yes, well, he invited me.” She smiled uncomfortably and continued looking around the apartment. Although her back was straight, her shoulders turned in as if she was trying to shrink and take up less space. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your place. You always come over to the manor.”

“You’re always welcome over,” Draco said.

“I’m not blaming you.” She shook her head. “I never bothered to ask. I think I was always fixed on us having tea or dinner together.” Her eyes fell to Draco, and she smile again, and this time it took over her smile. “I am proud of you, Draco.”

As a child, the phrase had been frequent. When he had gotten O’s or won a Quidditch match or even just told her of a particular potion he had mastered before his class, she would say it. But since the end of his fifth year – since his father was captured and their troubles started – he could not think of the last time he had heard it.

Draco hadn’t even realized there were tears in his eyes until his mother placed a finger under his chin and lifted it up. “You must always hold yourself with pride and with dignity,” she said. Draco had heard that over and over again when he, his mother, and his father were all under scrutiny, and although he nodded, his shoulders shook.

“I did,” he said. Everything he had been holding back fell apart, and he turned his back so that the people in his living room couldn’t see him. He knew he had to look like a mess. Tears streamed down his face, and his fingers curled into tight balls. “I have to – Excuse me.”

Draco made his way to the bathroom and, thankful to find it empty, closed and locked the door. He leaned his back against the door and slid down to the floor until his knees pressed up against his chest with enough pressure that it hurt. His forehead fell to his knees, and he closed his eyes.

He had come so close to not seeing his mother again for a year. So close to losing his life as he knew it. And with it likely the strange friendships he’d made along the way. Draco sobbed against his knees for minutes until he heard a knock at the door. He cleared his throat and wiped his tears before answering.

“I need another minute,” he said. With that, he stood up and took several steadying breaths before staring at himself in the mirror.

“Draco, it’s me,” Harry said from the other side of the door.

Looking in the mirror, Draco could see his eyes were puffy and pink, and his forehead had a red blotch from where he’d been leaning it against his knees. Draco turned on the faucet and splashed water on his face before unlocking the door. Harry stepped in and closed the door behind him.

“Hey,” Draco croaked. He didn’t want to see the concern on Harry’s face, so he avoided looking at him and ran more water over his face.

“I shouldn’t have invited everyone without telling you. I just thought you deserved to celebrate,” Harry said. Draco let out a non-committal sound and reached around Harry for his face towel to pat himself dry. “I’m sorry,” Harry added.

Draco set the towel down and reached for the hair paste. “It’s fine.” He focused his attention on uncapping it, but before he could squeeze any out, Harry lay his hand on top of Draco’s.

“Please let me.” He took the product from Draco and squeezed a small amount on his fingers. For the first time, Draco’s eyes fell to Harry. Like this – disheveled with red eyes – he felt exposed. But Harry just smiled as if this were an ordinary day under ordinary circumstances and ran his fingers through Draco’s hair. “You fixed me up this morning. It’s only fair I return the favor.”

Draco shivered Harry’s hand ran through his hair and his thumb grazed against the back of his neck. His breath hitched, and he let himself go, closing his eyes and tilting his head forward. He could tell that Harry wasn’t doing it right just from the way his hands moved through his hair, but Draco let him finish before lifting his head up and turning to look. His hair looked as if it had a combover, and Draco smiled.

“Not even close,” he said, reaching up to fix it. It took him a moment, but he did, getting it close to how he wanted it. After, he opened a cabinet and reached for his concealer, dabbing light amounts under his eyes to hide the puffiness.

“You know, you would,” Harry said. He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I just cried in front of all of your friends. The least I can do is go out there looking like I didn’t.” He fixed a stray hair and tucked it among the rest before turning to look to Harry. “If I’m entertaining guests, I refuse to look anything short of presentable.”

“Not true. Last time I came over, you were far from it.” A smirk formed on Harry’s lips, and it took Draco a moment to recall. Last night seemed so long ago, but when Harry had come, what he’d been wearing – or rather, not wearing – was notable.

“You’re different than your entire entourage,” Draco responded, doing his best to remain straight-faced.

“They’re not my entourage.” Harry rolled his eyes. They stared at each other for a moment before both trying to speak at the same time. “We should go before they start to get ideas,” Harry said.

Just as Draco was saying, “I thought it’d just be us so that we could discuss what happened.” The last bit of his sentence filled the room as Harry fell silent.

“What’s there to discuss?” Harry asked.

“Oh, c’mon, you can’t be serious.” Draco groaned. “I’m not playing games. We kissed!” He whispered it as if afraid that someone in another room might overhear. “Do your friends even know?”

“No, not yet, but I figured I’d tell them.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. Later, I guess.” Harry reached for the handle, and Draco’s stomach fell again.

“I don’t know why you’re throwing this party if you clearly can’t wait to get away from me. Don’t worry. The trial’s over. You can go back to your life before I made it complicated.” Draco glanced away and clenched his jaw. He could hear as he ground his teeth, and although he knew he should stop, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. His stomach began to hurt, and he turned away from Harry and dug his nails into his palms.

But Harry grabbed Draco’s shoulder and turned him back around so that they were face-to-face. “None of this. I won’t let you consume yourself in self-pity. I didn’t want to talk about it now because I knew you would do this.”

“Do what?” Draco asked, but even he could hear the unpleasant, childish edge in his voice.

“Push me away. Act like you don’t care or like I don’t care.”

“You don’t even care enough to tell them,” Draco said. “I get it. Having me around as a charity case is one thing, but anything more – that crosses a line.” The words tumbled out before he could stop them, but Harry, although he looked as if he’d been slapped in the face, didn’t let go of his shoulders.

“You are so stubborn! I want to tell them. But I want you to be there when I tell them. I also don’t want to do it in front of Ginny or at a party. I don’t want your mother to find out the wrong way. I want this to be serious, and I don’t want to mess it up.” Harry finally let go, and, for the first time, he looked upset.

“Serious?” Draco repeated. He blinked several times and could suddenly hear his heartbeat between his ears. “You want to try something serious?”

“I like spending time with you. Do you really think I didn’t know what I was doing when I asked you to spoon me yesterday?” Harry let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair, further messing it up. “I get it. This is weird. I don’t think either of us were expecting it. But it’s here, and I am going to beat myself up until I’m old and gray if I don’t at least give it a shot.” He took another deep breath and steadied himself. “Now can we go before people start guessing because we’ve been in here for way too long?”

Draco nodded. His heart was still pounding hard in his chest, and he bit the inside of his cheek, holding back a smile. Even though he felt a kneejerk reaction to push back, he bit his tongue and let the warm, elated feeling take over instead. “Can we talk once they all leave?” Draco asked.

“I was planning on it.”

Harry turned the handle and stepped out into the hallway. “Everything okay in there?” he heard a familiar voice ask. Draco stepped out, his brow furrowing.

Pansy Parkinson stood in his hallway, glancing around with a look somewhere between boredom and resignation. He glanced at Harry, who gave him a mischievous smirk before stepping past her and disappearing into the living room. “What are you doing here?” Draco asked.

“You know, I volunteered to serve as a witness because I know what a prat Theo is, but Potter said my word was no good. I see he hasn’t changed much.” She tilted her head to the side. “It’s been at least a year, Draco, dear.”

“Yes, well, I’ve been busy.” He cleared his throat. Pansy, like him, had reformed after the war, but the two had little to talk about besides Pansy’s constant attempts to set him up with a new beau once a year. “How are you?” Draco asked.

“Busy as well.” She put her left hand forward and wagged her ring finger in his face. “I’m settling down – you wouldn’t believe it – with this nice, little Muggle boy from Oxford.” They held eye contact for a moment before both laughing.

“I’m assuming he’s from old wealth,” Draco said.

“If a man can’t spoil me, what’s even the point?” She shrugged. “He’s also very sweet.” Her voice softened at the edges. Draco wasn’t sure if it was the first time he had heard Pansy speak of another person with any real warmth. “It’s why you and me would have never worked out. Well, among many reasons.”

“If you have a man you’re about to suggest, Pansy, I can stop you already.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Please.”

“Don’t tell me you found someone when you were busy being tragic these past few months,” Pansy said.

“I wasn’t busy being tragic, and –” He paused. If Pansy wasn’t so notoriously a gossip, he might have told her, but he was certain she would run to Rita Skeeter herself if he gave her the chance. “No.”

“I’m sensing more to the story than you want to tell. But just you wait. I’ll get a few glasses of wine in you, and you’ll crack like a nut.”

“Always so pleasant, Pansy.” Draco sighed. It fell silent between them for a moment. “You could have reached out to me if you were volunteering yourself as a witness,” Draco said.

“I sent an owl to Potter only two days ago. I –” Her gaze shifted away from him, and her brow furrowed. “I have a reputation, and no one was really talking about me the way they talked about you after the war. I just didn’t know if I wanted people to think…” She trailed off, looking uncomfortable, and Draco felt the knot in his stomach reforming.

“I get it,” he said, eager to change topics. “How is the job going?” he asked.

“I got a chance to do some work for Celestina Warbeck. Most of her furniture was too gaudy for my taste –”

“And that’s saying something.”

“Careful, Draco.” Her eyes narrowed. “These are touchy subjects to mock.” She smoothed her dress robes. “In any case, my designs of kitchen made it to the cover of Witch Weekly, and there was a whole spread and interview in there.”

“Congratulations.”

“Yes, well, it is exciting, isn’t it?”

Before Draco could respond, he realized that Luna Lovegood had made her way down the hallway to them. “I was assuming the bathroom would be somewhere around here,” she said, looking at Draco.

“It’s right here.” He pointed at the door behind him, and Luna disappeared.

“You heard who she’s dating, right?” Pansy said, her eyes sparkling again with the promise of gossip. But Draco was certain that Luna could hear them.

“Oh, shush, Pansy.”

“No, I’m serious. Perhaps Potter wouldn’t want to share with you, but –”

“Pansy, I’m begging you to stop talking,” he hissed under his breath and just in time. The door to the bathroom swung open.

“I didn’t realize it was such a big deal that Ginny and I were dating,” Luna said. But beneath her typically floaty voice was a challenge. Pansy flushed and looked away, and Draco couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t every day Pansy was forced to confront her shame.

“I just thought perhaps Draco hadn’t heard.”

“Well, if he hadn’t, he would find out soon enough considering Ginny and I are here together.” She turned her attention to Draco, and her smile melted into something more genuine. “That’s lovely to hear that you aren’t going to Azkaban, Draco,” Luna said.

“Thanks, Luna,” Draco said.

“You know, Harry’s not much of a planner. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him throw a party himself. You must have quite an influence on him.” Although there was no suggestion to her voice, Draco couldn’t help but wonder if she somehow knew. Her gaze also didn’t reveal any more, but Draco laughed nervously nonetheless.

“I wouldn’t really know, but I’m glad to hear. I think.” She smiled at him and walked past into the living room again. “I should go mingle or something,” Draco said to Pansy.

“I might leave early. I don’t think anyone at this party particularly likes me,” Pansy said as they made their way to the living room and she caught a glare from Ginny across the room.

“Yes, well, I can’t imagine why.” Draco rolled his eyes, and Pansy broke off from him, moving over to Draco’s mother to strike up a new conversation.

Ron walked over to Draco and slapped a hand on his back. “Good on you, mate,” he said. Draco wasn’t sure if he could look any more awkward if he tried.

“Thanks. You know, I’m beginning to sound like a broken record, but I don’t think I could have done this without you or Hermione.” He glanced around the living room but didn’t see her. “Where is she, by the way? I wanted to thank her again too.”

As if on cue, Hermione and Harry appeared, and, with a flick of Hermione’s wand, the lights started dimming. In his hands, Harry held a large Bakewell tart with lit candles haphazardly stuck into it. “Draco’s mother pointed out that Draco missed his birthday. Just barely, but he did.” Harry beamed at him with enough pride that Draco almost didn’t wish he could sink into the floor. “Let’s sing him a happy birthday.”

“You really don’t have to,” Draco said, but Harry had already started. He crooned off-key, not breaking eye contact and grinning as he watched Draco squirm. The rest of the room joined in, and he covered his face and groaned, waiting until it was over to look up.

Harry held the tart under him. “Make a wish,” Harry said. Draco closed his eyes again. _For everything to go smoothly with Matthews_. He wondered whether it was perhaps a bit selfish, but, honestly, he didn’t care. He blew out the candles in one go, and as everyone clapped, his eyes caught Harry’s.

The warmth caught him off-guard, and, Draco’s stomach did a flip. Under the guise of helping support the pie, he lifted his hands up and placed them on top of Harry’s. Only he, this close to Harry in a dim room, could see the way Harry bit the inside of his cheek and gave him a dopey look. He let go after a moment and mumbled a few thank you’s before heading to the kitchen to cut the pie.

“I hope you know I haven’t eaten anything today. This tart is going to kill me.”

“Twenty-seven and a little bit of tart before dinner is already too wild for you.” Harry grinned and handed him a slice. “You’re free, Draco. Live a little.”

Draco rolled his eyes but took the plate. “Fine.”

\- - -

Pansy and his mother left first. Then Luna and Ginny. Neville and his wife, Hannah, who Draco had met a few times at St. Mungo’s. And finally, Ron and Hermione. Draco collapsed on his couch with a huff as Harry closed the door behind them.

“You doing okay?” Harry asked, stepping his way over a few dirty dishes to sit down next to Draco.

“Surprisingly so for being around so many Gryffindors for that long.” Expecting it, Draco dodged Harry’s elbow and grinned.

“You’re still insufferable, you know?” Draco hummed in disagreement but didn’t say anything else. Instead, he turned, leaning his chin in the palm of his hand as he stared at Harry, taking in as much as he could. “What are you thinking?” Harry asked after a minute.

“I was wondering if you were serious about what you said earlier.”

“About giving us a shot?” Harry asked, and Draco nodded. After shifting himself so that he faced Draco, he grabbed Draco’s hand and squeezed it. “If you want to. I’m not going to let you push me away, but I’m also not going to force you.”

Draco squeezed back. “I can tell you’re tired, but would you hate me if I asked to get out of here? I feel like I’ve been cooped inside forever. I just need some fresh air.”

Harry just smiled. “Where did you want to go?”


End file.
